


Sheparding Men

by orangeflavor



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Companionship, Drama, Existential Angst, F/M, Intimacy, Multiple Relationships, PTSD, Romance, Shepard loves cursing, Snippets, Trust, Violence, Vulnerability, game-length
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 92,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3186380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeflavor/pseuds/orangeflavor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Our lives are never lived rightly unless they are lived urgently, powerfully, lived with faces turned toward the sun."  -  A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life.  Memory.  Passion.  Constancy.  These are the gifts they gave her,</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Blank Space Between Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This Mass Effect piece will deal with Shepard's romances with Kaidan, Thane and Garrus throughout the games, at different levels and times of her life, weaving around each other. Love is hardly ever clean and pretty, so the relationships will bleed into each other when emotions get tangled. Which they are VERY likely to do here, because I love angst with a fierce passion that should probably be diagnosed. So unfortunately, as much as I adore Thane, that means he won't be seen until I get into the second game. Expect DLC content to be included. All the important men in Shepard's life with be involved with this story as well, and for the sake of style and scene and because I LOVE them, other characters will of course be featured. Please enjoy.

Sheparding Men

Chapter One: The Blank Space Between Stars

_"Our lives are never lived rightly unless they are lived urgently, powerfully, lived with faces turned toward the sun."_ \- A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory.  Passion.  Constancy.  These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

There are six things Commander Shepard believes to be absolute.

One. It never ends. Don't expect a reprieve. Don't expect that sweet breath of relief. Don't ever expect closure. What seems to end will always begin anew, what starts will never finish, and the eternity we claim we are seeking is already here. We are in it now. This shuddering, brutal, exhilarating mess of emotion and reaction and breath, this short-lived, vibrant life. This tangle of souls, this meeting of hearts. This stubborn, thrilling universe doesn't know how to die. Don't ever think it's over. It never ends.

Two. There are people that come into your life that are never destined to stay. It is not wrong. It is not a mistake. They are meant to be momentary and fleeting and sometimes shattering. They are no less important. Their role is never diminished. It is not wrong.

Three. Instinct. Listen to it. Use it. Die by it if it calls to you. But never question what every fiber of your being is screaming at you to feel.

Four. Caffeine. And heat sinks. These are the pillars of the soldier's religion.

Five. When the damage is done and the blood is drawn, you must walk away. There is no changing the kill. There is no wishing back of life. Treasure it. Support it. Endure it. But when it is snuffed by your hands, there is no help in wallowing. There is too much to be done and too much to be seen and too much to be felt to keep looking for blood on your hands. It will wash. And you will weep. And you will learn to forgive but never forget. You must feel every kill. But you must never _be_ every kill. There will be none of you left if you cannot learn to walk away when the bodies hit the floor. They are gone. You are not.

Six. It all matters. Every word, every action, every thought. Every day is Doomsday. Every breath we take is one closer to death. Every second is a slow dying. Every move we make must be with the knowledge that even the slightest ripple will be felt in some tremble of the universe. Some distant trace of our touch will be known. Some far-off life may shudder at our imprint. Our lives are never lived rightly unless they are lived urgently, powerfully, lived with faces turned toward the sun. We can act with nothing less than the best of us. It all matters.

There are six things Commander Shepard believes to be absolute. Everything else is transient.

* * *

Kaidan Alenko is shorter than Shepard expects. When she meets him aboard the Normandy after Anderson's introduction, she finds his salute stiff and practiced and yet whole-hearted. There is the slight quirk of his lip as he looks at her, the firm, graceful lilt of his voice when he answers "Commander".

Her nod is quick and lifted and Anderson has already made his way across the command deck when she pulls her gaze from the Lieutenant. She is already moving to Anderson when he calls her. She feels Kaidan's lingering gaze.

* * *

"God, you'd think they'd get some decent chow with the money they blew on this ship."

Shepard's voice is unexpected, sure and without hesitation, but Kaidan is the only one within earshot. He glances up, sees the Commander fiddling with her fork in the pseudo-pasta and laughing. There is no one else at their table, and Kaidan is several seats away. He looks around for a second, and then finds his voice.

"Well, you know the Alliance. Corners had to be cut somewhere."

Shepard looks up at him, almost surprised at his answer. Command for her has been anything but casual conversation. The sudden sound of his voice is warm and familiar and sounds like Earth to her. She smiles without realizing.

Her eyes are a greenish brown and almond-shaped and Kaidan swears he can see the ocean when she smiles. He looks back down to his own plate.

"I guess I should be glad it wasn't our pay."

Shepard's answer is light and offered without expectation. Kaidan looks up to find her cradling her chin in her palm, her arm resting with elbow atop the table.

There is something easy and smooth and yet challenging in her gaze. She does not turn her stare from him. He looks at her from across the length of the table. "Well, I suppose I'd get the cut first so I think you're in the clear, Commander."

She smiles at him and puts her fork down. Somehow they move several seats closer, their words trade themselves across the table and a half hour has passed before Shepard announces the end of her meal and stands to leave the mess hall.

Kaidan's salute is still stiff, still practiced, but there is something comforting about his smirk this time. She turns from him and Kaidan finds he watches the spot where she stood long after she has left.

* * *

Eden Prime is overrun and hollowed and burning when the Normandy breaks through the atmosphere. Shepard checks her Mantis sniper rifle, holstering a few extra rounds along her ammo belt, watching Jenkins and Alenko suit up as they follow her toward the airlock. Anderson briefs them quickly. She is already looking to the ground. She is already gauging the distance between the alien ship and the dig site, already reminding herself of the dead marine bodies she knows she will walk past on her way to the beacon. She is already preparing for dog-tag collection.

The heavy click of her reload sounds in the airlock and Kaidan is asking Anderson about survivors. She wants to tell him. She wants to be harsh and quick and sharp in her interruption, wants to mock him for his belief in _any_ survivors. But she knows that look. Her mouth stays closed. And she nods silently when Anderson simply deflects it with a repeat of the beacon's importance.

Shepard wonders if Kaidan has ever held his hands to a dying man's wound. She wonders if he's ever whispered a useless "It'll be okay" into a soldier's face while his hands held the shaking, bleeding chest of a marine. She wonders if he's ever seen death in the face of a friend.

He nods silently, and when Shepard signals their move as the Normandy descends, she cannot see his face when he turns his gaze from hers.

* * *

"Shit! On your three!" Shepard shouts to Kaidan quickly as she swings her arm toward the oncoming geth, her omni-tool glowing and whirling as she sends an Incinerate in the synthetic's direction. Kaidan ducks with barely enough time but the geth is staggered enough for Kaidan to pop off a few rounds and blow the geth to parts and pieces.

Shepard cannot help the blinding grin that graces her features at the synthetic's stuttering and then collapsing demise. Kaidan whips back to Shepard. "Dammit, Commander, warn me before you decide to blow some explosive tech my way."

Shepard raises a brow just as Kaidan remembers himself and swallows thickly, waiting. But Shepard is having too much fun and the sudden whizzing of bullets past her ear pulls her attention from Kaidan. She drops quickly behind the cover of a jutting rock, Kaidan following suit beside her. She pulls the reload on her rifle and turns to Kaidan, her eyes bright, body thrumming in anticipation and Kaidan is suddenly struck by the sight of her.

"Ready to dance?" Shepard's question is almost a laugh, her arm already glowing with the light of her omni-tool. He hears Ashley's shotgun several feet away. Before he can answer, Shepard is already raising herself from cover, her fingers deft and calculated against her trigger, her eyes shifting sharply through the field ahead of them. Kaidan follows without thought. He finds his body moving to hers of its own volition.

* * *

Shepard throws Kaidan aside. It is instinctual and sudden and she has only a moment to catch her footing before her mind is splitting with images, the shrill, tearing sound of the beacon flooding her ears. There are only seconds and images and the quick, jerky fluttering of her eyelashes under the thrall before she is blown back and unconscious. She cannot even feel Kaidan's hands as they frantically turn her over.

* * *

Nihlus is dead. Saren is gone rogue. Visions of bloody metal and flesh and light. And geth. Shepard sits atop the med-bay table and rubs a weary hand down her face. She does not even know how to begin feeling about this.

* * *

They're running around the Citadel for almost three hours before Shepard runs into one Urdnot Wrex. His form is caught in her periphery when she exits the C-Sec elevator and her muscles instantly tense, her senses heightened but she does not stop walking toward the corridor. Her fingers itch for the comfort of her pistol in her hand and she must run through fuzzy krogan anatomy in her head to remember where both hearts are located. She has never known a krogan except at the barrel end of her gun. She does not know this behemoth. She doesn't intend to make friends. She's here for information. And she will never underestimate the greed of a bounty hunter.

Wrex turns his head at the sight of her moving toward him and the C-Sec officers. He waves the security off dismissively and a laugh rumbles in his throat. His red eyes find Shepard's own greenish-brown ones and she stops when the hulking form of him is turned fully to her. She leaves five feet between them. Kaidan and Ashley are silent behind her.

"You Shepard?" His voice is a deep roll along his throat and his lip curls as the words leave his mouth. The faint glint of teeth is visible for a moment before what appears to stand for a frown pulls at his mouth.

Shepard cocks her head and watches his relaxed, nonchalant lean. His Carnifex heavy pistol is secured to its holster and there is an ease in his stance that speaks volumes of the threat level he gauges from her. She smirks softly, because she knows he's aware of her own wariness, aware of what body language says between them. She resists the urge to cross her arms over her chest. "Guilty. I heard you know a little something about a nosy quarian. _Wrex_ is it?" She holds a hand up to point at him, her other moving to rest on her hip.

The curl of his lip twitches minutely. "I know a lot of things, human. Your quarian included. Ever heard of a thug named Fist?" His red eyes appraise her silently.

Shepard sighs and shrugs her shoulders. "I'm Alliance. Been space-bound for months now and I couldn't tell you back-alley shiftster from drunken retired C-Sec on this station. But", Shepard pauses and raises a finger in the air, her smile breaking confidently free, "I can hit anything between the eyes and I don't stop at 'please' so if you're up for a little fieldtrip with the humans, hows about me make a deal?"

Wrex raises one brow and cannot decide whether to be amused or annoyed by this tiny human in front of him. But her eyes are bright and excited and he hasn't shot anything in days so he rolls his eyes in response, waving a hand for them to follow him.

Shepaard claps her hands in front of her and rubs them eagerly. "Finally, someone who doesn't want me to drop off their packages or save their mother for a bit of goddamned information."

Wrex is shaking his head as they follow behind him and the beginning of a laugh rumbles in his chest. "Come on, pink thing."

* * *

When Shepard watches Garrus jump from behind cover and fire a shot into the head of the thug not six inches from Dr. Michel, her first thought is "Damn." The thug is down before Dr. Michel can even finish her scream, her face splattered with the blossom of blood and Shepard and Ashley dispatch the remaining hired guns quickly. Ashley sounds out a harsh disapproval to Garrus, noting _"_ _Dr. Michel's head for Christ's sake!_ ", but Shepard ignores it when she sees Garrus' stuttered apology for the doctor before she assuages his worry.

Shepard had been unimpressed when she first met the turian a few hours ago just before the first failed Council hearing, and she let his dead-end investigation become her own estimation of the officer himself. He had the motivation but no results. Tucking an errant dark curl behind her ear, she looks behind her and catches sight of the bullet hole Garrus had sent splitting through a man's skull.

Turning back, Shepard locks eyes with him as Dr. Michel finishes her confession about the wounded quarian and she watches his mandibles flex momentarily, his eyes shifting between hers before he nods silently and turns to leave with them.

Shepard sees a man who not only lines up his sight but, most importantly, takes the shot when he needs to take the shot.

She remembers the name Garrus Vakarian.

* * *

First Human Spectre. It takes her a moment to realize she has a turian and a quarian beside her for the ceremony and the thought brings an ironic chuckle to her lips. Udina is frowning so deeply behind her she swears she can hear his face breaking from where she stands. The ceremony is short and sudden. She feels her skin tingling beneath her armor. She doesn't know why. She can hear the voices sharp and slick and heated all around the chamber. She turns to walk back, blinking in mild confusion and unpreparedness. Anderson's approving pat along her back jerk her from the unexpected haze of the heavy moment. Shepard puts a light hand to her chest and looks up at the faces lining the balconies above. None of these faces anchor her with the gravity of this instant, this line out of a history book. She thinks maybe it should feel greater than it does. But she can only think of the dead dock workers burning in the fires of Eden Prime. She vows to do better. Looking ahead to the walkway, she catches Kaidan's eyes as he stands several feet back. They are crinkled in a proud smile and his face looks warm and soft. It makes her yearn for Earth.

She wishes her parents were here.

* * *

"And this Dr. T'Soni is supposed to help us?"

"Keywords here being 'supposed to'." Shepard answers, air-quotes and all, to Kaidan's question. She begins to pull her dark curls up onto her head and fasten her hair into a bun.

"Ma'am, do we know anything about T'Soni's relationship with her mother? Can we be sure she's not already working for Benezia?" Ashley is sitting forward with her elbows resting along her knees.

"Who knows. That's why we have guns, Williams: that precious, game-changing advantage." She answers, her eyebrows lifting quickly with her smile.

Kaidan smirks at the Commander and watches her.

"Besides," Wrex joins in, "asari live for millennia. Chances are they haven't even spoken in decades."

Tali flexes her fingers in her lap. "Just because you're not a family man, Wrex, doesn't mean it doesn't hold sway over others. We should go in assuming an enemy of T'Soni, and work from there."

"I'm sorry, is this where you count yourself as Normandy crew?" Ashley cuts in quickly, "Because last I checked we were full up on voices."

Kaidan shoots a warning glance to Ashley but Shepard's voice reaches the Gunnery Chief first. "Stand down, Williams. I don't brook that kind of talk on my ship." Her eyes are firm on Ashley, her jaw tight in disapproval and it is the look in her eye rather than the harsh tone of her voice that has Ashley licking her lips in regret and turning her gaze to the floor.

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" She swallows thickly.

Tali bristles in her seat slightly and Shepard sighs, pushing off from her lean on the communication terminal. "Ready your weapons. If T'Soni isn't a threat, there will certainly be geth looking for her. And I didn't kill nearly enough on Eden Prime. Dismissed."

Everyone files out wordlessly and Shepard finds her eyes following Kaidan leave the room. She taps the comm. link behind her. "Joker, ETA."

"This is your pilot speaking, reporting a smooth and even descent at seven minutes. Thanks for flying Normandy air and enjoy your day."

Shepard can't help the smile that tugs at her lips as she walks from the room, shaking her head.

* * *

"Really, Wrex?" Garrus' laugh is cut off quickly by his groan of pain as he pushes himself up from the floor of the damaged lift. Wrex is grumbling and rolling over to get his hands beneath him so he can push himself up.

"I'm an eight hundred pound krogan. What'd you think was going to happen?" Wrex is dusting off his armor in the rubble of the downed elevator, his shields flickering back to full strength and Garrus is laughing again as he plants the butt of his Mantis in the rock and pushes himself to a standing position.

"Soddy workmanship, that's what it is," Wrex growls under his breath, pulling his shotgun from its sling to glance ahead at the walkway winding into the ruin just ahead. He looks at the pathway suspiciously.

"Garrus! Wrex! You guys good down there?" Shepard's voice reverberates against the stone and Garrus looks up to find Shepard trying to scale down the almost three floors of cavern rock they had fallen in the rickety elevator once Wrex stepped in and employed violence against the old, broken controls.

"Yeah, all clear. Just a broken ego, I think." Garrus leans back against the rock as Shepard makes her way down.

Wrex turns to the turian frowning, his eyes narrowed.

Shepard crawls over the ruined top carriage of the elevator and plops down on the floor in front of them, her boots sending a cloud of dust and sand into the air. "Good," she answers, pulling her own Mantis from its carrier on her back, "Because I've only got three packs of medi-gel and, considering your brilliant entrance into the ruins likely alerted any geth within a _fifty_ mile radius to our presence, I'm thinking we might want to save them for the inevitable bullet wounds we'll be receiving on this one."

She shoots a sharp look to the both of them and Garrus raises his hands into the air. "What? I'm not the one who went blood rage on the controls." But his excuse is laced with barely held in laughter and Shepard finds a smirk tugging at her lips behind her helmet anyway.

Wrex begins to creep around the wobbling metal pathway leading toward the mysterious blue force field around the Therum ruins. "Maybe they should build these things better then."

Shepard can't help the sudden guffaw that leaves her mouth before she pulls her lip in at the krogan's look. Her shoulders shake in barely held in mirth. "These are fifty thousand year old ruins, Wrex. What'd you expect, a handicap ramp?"

"Watch it Shepard, I still haven't decided if I like you yet." But Wrex is still moving forward and watching the path and the fact that he does not need to look back to know that Shepard is covering him is all she needs to see.

Garrus mock gasps behind Shepard and lights up his omni-tool to pull some readings from the upcoming ruin. "Wait, you mean I'm not the only one?"

"Alright, boys, eyes forward. We can discuss my charming personality back on the Normandy." She puts a hand to Wrex's shoulder and he stops, eyeing her. She puts two fingers to her ear and then points them toward the path that veers off right behind the rock face. She watches Wrex and Garrus nod in unison and then pulls the heavy, comforting reload of her Mantis in her hand. She moves up and knows they are right behind her.

* * *

The tearing pain wakes her until she finds herself screaming into her sheets. She is flushed with sweat, her heart beat throbbing in her ears and her nails have cut half-moons into her palms as they clench in the sheets. She wakes gasping sweet, filtered, vacuumed air in the captain's cabin of their dreadnaught, the cold, still dark of space touching the glass above her bed. She twists her gaze, breathing heavily into the sheets, until she can watch the whizzing of space and light and gas giants past her window, until she can blink the hot tears away and focus on the blinding galaxy across the glass.

Shepard breathes quietly in her cabin for several long minutes, slowly coming down, before she checks her clock to find 03:16 and then leaves for the mess hall.

* * *

Shepard is sitting Indian style on one of the benches in the mess hall, a heavy sweatshirt pulled against her chest, her back resting against the table ledge, when Kaidan finds her. She is looking out one of the side shutter panels with retractable planes, her fingers bunched in the material of her sweatshirt, her face tilted to the derk empty abyss streaming past the window and there is only the light of passing stars to illuminate the outline of her figure.

"Commander?" Kaidan's voice is soft and hesitant, and he clears his throat in embarrassment, repeating louder "Commander", when she does not turn. The streaming stars outside pass silver against her skin.

Kaidan is standing beside the bench when she blinks and turns to him, swallowing heavily. He sees the sweat on her forehead, sees her flushed cheeks and heavy eyelids. "Commander, should I call Chakwas?" But he is already moving toward the med-bay when Shepard's hand reaches out and grasps his to halt him. Her touch is sudden and hot and intoxicating in a way that makes Kaidan still at the intake of breath upon the feel of her skin. It is so small, and so innocent, and she is not even aware of her affect that Kaidan is hesitant to lose the simple sensation that comes with the skin of her palm against his arm. It scares even him.

She seems to notice his surprise at her unexplained silence and informal touch and smiles softly at him, releasing his hand and instead patting the seat next to her. "That won't be necessary, Lieutenant. It's just the vision. I think the mind meld with Liara just made it resurface."

Kaidan slowly lowers himself to the seat and feels the chill of space beyond the glass before them. He looks out at the whizzing planets and stars as they glide through the cosmos. He sets the e-pad he had in his other hand against the tabletop and pulls one leg up on the bench, turning his head to watch her better. "Does it hurt?" He is surprised at the ease at which his words come. He thinks he shouldn't be talking this way with her. But there is something about her in the dim light of the passing galaxy that keeps him still and soft and silver beside her.

Shepard runs a hand through her tangled black curls, whirling the hair around one hand to knot it in a thick bun. A loose strand falls against her cheek and Kaidan is almost transfixed enough to actually reach out and brush it back. But he catches himself in time, swallows thickly instead and watches her in the faded slanted beams from the window.

She shakes her head slightly. "Not anymore. It's mostly passed. I just felt a bit cramped in my quarters when it first woke me. Needed a bit more open space." She furrows her brow slightly as she looks back at the tabletop behind them and catches sight of the e-pad he had placed atop it. "What about you?"

Kaidan follows her gaze to the datapad and picks it back up, scrolling through files slowly. "Oh, I just – my shift starts at 0500 and I usually take this time to write to family. It's usually quiet and deserted so it gets me time to think. The view from the opened shutters usually gets me started on a good note. And it's a solid start to the day. It reminds me why I'm on this ship and on this mission. I'm here for them. Writing keeps them more present to me."

Shepard purses her lips slightly. "Am I intruding on that?"

Kaidan stumbles through words that should be easy. "No, you're not – it's completely fine, it's not like you're – no, you're fine. Huh," he laughs, somewhat awkwardly and with nervously licked lips, his body turning from her to stand. "I'm just going to grab a cup of joe first."

"Kaidan."

The sound of his name on her lips stops him, and he is silent in his stare of her, his hands clutching the e-pad between his fingers. "Commander?" He curses himself for the quake in his voice.

But she does not let on that she hears. She only looks at the cold dark window. "Why is this view so enticing to you?"

For a moment Kaidan is afraid she has seen his heavy stares this whole time, has caught him sneaking glances across the mess when they share meal time. And then he remembers himself and releases that hastily held breath and realizes she's speaking of space behind the glass. He licks his lips, searching for a response. "I guess it's that romantic frontier idealism in me," he laughs softly. "Mom and Dad always used to go on about the stars to me. About all the worlds and planets out there. How the stars aren't quite so out of reach. There's something magical about space, I think." He finds his hands in the pockets of his sweats, his shoulders shrugging nonchalantly.

Shepard looks at him and smiles lightly, and Kaidan recognizes that same glint in her eye he sees when they're facing down the barrels of guns, when they're running through platoons of geth in exhilarating explosions of biotic and tech power, their bodies screaming in exhaustion and pushing and straining and running further, their hands trembling with force and sensation. That glow of destructive creation behind her eyes, that breathless moment between bullets and reload, that rush that fills her whole body with vibrance.

Her smile drops slowly, so quietly you would have never known it was there in the first place. "I don't…remember too much about my parents. But I do remember what my mother always told me about space. It's…really the reason I joined the Alliance. You know, it wasn't the stars that fascinated her. She always said that it was the blank space between stars that excited her."

Kaidan cocks his head in question and Shepard turns her face to look back out the glass. It is dark and chill and quiet. The silver is soft upon her face.

"It's where just about anything could happen. She would say that the stars are already there, the planets are already formed, the worlds are already built. But that dark space, that blank, unknown, lost distance between the stars, that's where the real magic happens. That's where all the possibilities lie. That's where we have the ability to be creators. It may be terrifying and new and unlike anything we've seen but it is the empty places between the light that grant us the chance to do more, to seek more, to _be_ more."

Shepard turns her green gaze to Kaidan and he finds his breath caught somewhere between his chest and the galaxy outside swirling like uninhibited opportunity, splashing light and dust and heat into balls of creation.

Shepard pushes herself slowly from the bench and walks to the shutter, places her hand against the cool, thick glass and feels the magic swirl beneath her touch. She closes her eyes and breathes in. She can almost taste the cosmos dancing on her tongue. This world of risk and chance and gamble, this possibility of creation, this open road before her, this faulting light and beautiful dark, this everything and nothing all at once. This is what she was made for.

She keeps one hand to the window, flicks her gaze to Kaidan, and feels the touch of the unknown against her palm.

Kaidan cannot take his eyes from her.


	2. The Burden of Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She does not pretend that it is easy. She does not promise her crew clear skies or blank rounds." - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

Sheparding Men

Chapter Two: The Burden of Command

 _"She does not pretend that it is easy. She does not promise her crew clear skies or blank rounds."_ \- A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the men in her life.  Memory.  Passion. Constancy.  These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

"Jesus Murphy, it's freezing out here," Kaidan mumbles under his breath, pulling his arms tighter into his chest and following Shepard and Tali out the Normandy airlock. He glances around the Port Hanshan docking bay.

Shepard stops in her stride and turns to the Lieutenant. "I'm sorry, what?" She cannot help the chuckle that lines her voice.

Kaidan blinks at her momentarily, and then laughs himself, shrugging his shoulders. "Nevermind. Canada speak."

Shepard laughs and keeps walking.

* * *

Tali is the first to suggest retrieving Liara from the Normandy when they hear about Benezia's presence on Noveria. Shepard looks to Kaidan unconsciously. His jaw is tight and closed. He nods, and they return to the dock.

This is not how Shepard wants Liara to remember her mother.

* * *

It is the first time Liara has witnessed Shepard's driving as they leave Port Hanshan's garage. She holds on for dear life. And Kaidan tries desperately to direct the Commander, his hand getting slapped away as he points out the ever-nearing cliff edge.

"I got this", Shepard urges. Kaidan wants to laugh at her but he fears he might get shot for it.

* * *

There is a shrill screeching burning into Shepard's mind when she sees the first rachni rampaging them, throwing aside a thick sheet of metal in its path with a strength that momentarily stuns Shepard. She dives left, barely escaping the spray of some slick, putrid venom as it shoots past her. She tumbles through the snow and gets to her feet quickly, returning her sniper rifle to its carrier and frantically grasping for her Carnifex. The sharp tearing sound of them is enough to throw her senses out of whack before she swings her pistol toward the sound and lodges three bullets into the shrieking animal's skull. Without hesitation, she throws an Incinerate toward the spindly rachni and watches in mild fascination and horror as it burns and thrashes, a sharp pained wail scraping from its throat.

She is frozen at the sight before the same piercing cry is drilling into her head again and she shakes the temporary paralysis from her mind in time to catch Kaidan's scraping and harsh scream of pain. She whips her head around and finds Liara biotically throwing a second ambushing rachni into the glass wall of Peak 15's tunnel. She is not fast enough.

The rachni's poison splashes across Kaiden's shoulder and it is all he can do to not drop to his knees just then with the burning pain of it. His shields are wiped clear of his armor in that instant and Shepard moves with an intensity she hadn't thought possible. Kaidan gets off two shots at the tumbling form of the rachni, his other hand moving to hold against his wounded shoulder holding his firearm. But he is shuddering in pain, his aim hindered, and the shots only graze the rachni. Shepard is suddenly charging the alien, her pistol rounding shot after shot into her opponent's scrambling body, Shepard's roar of fury loud and echoing in the chamber before Liara's hand on her shoulder alerts her to the still carcass of the rachni before her.

Shepard pulls in a deep, shaking breath, her pistol still heavy in her hands and turns her gaze to her companions. "What – in the _fuck_ – was that?"

Liara is trembling but unharmed, her mouth moving without sound. She only shakes her head in confusion.

Shepard is watching Kaidan as he stumbles forward, his hand still holding the fiery pain of his shoulder, and Shepard notices the faint blinking of his shields as they attempt to recharge. He grunts softly, moving to grab his own weapon, and when he winces at the pain of such an attempt, Shepard is suddenly in front of him, her hands steady on his frame.

"Easy there, Lieutenant." Her voice is smooth and calming and warm inside the cased walls of the Peak 15 tunnels. Outside the blizzard whips mercilessly.

Kaidan is abruptly aware of her face close to his, her breath light in its cloud form between them, the air chill and stifling all at once. She is checking his shoulder, her eyes affixed to his injury and Kaidan swallows down that unexplainable urge to lean in to her.

Shepard narrows her eyes at the injury, at the greenish tint casing his armor, already seared as if by acid. She pulls her arm up, lighting up her omni-tool in a quick scan of the blistered skin and it shows no permanent damage, no lingering toxin in his system. But the wound is slow to heal and she frowns slightly before moving to apply medi-gel.

Kaidan's sudden grasp of her wrist catches her off guard and she swings wide eyes to him. He is shaking from pain, and something else sharp and burning with her closeness. But he furrows his brow at her and shakes his head, his hold of her wrist never lessening. "Commander, I'm fine. We only have four packs. And God knows what else is down there," he jerks his head toward the faint green light of the elevator console, glinting lowly in the barren chamber as if taunting them. "Don't waste your medi-gel on this."

Shepard grinds her teeth and pulls her arm from Kaidan's grasp, her stare challenging and uncompromising. "Kaidan."

And just the sound of his name is enough to make him surrender.

"It's your firing arm. You're no use to me like this. Take it, and fall in line." The warm glow of her omni-tool lights the air between them. Shepard returns her attention to his wound, not waiting for his reply, and she knows he will not fight her. But her hold on his shoulder, her lingering touch as she slips from his grasp, her heavy gaze before she turns back to Liara, they all breathe of some tender notion she could not put in words. She only nods to him silently, the stoic clench of her jaw final and unquestionable. Liara is silent beside them. They continue into the elevator.

Kaidan misses her warmth already.

* * *

"Rachni?" Liara's soft gasp of surprise is mildly entertaining to Shepard. She doesn't know what the hell is going through Saren's mind. But the warnings of the volus doctor before her plant a subtle, heavy fear in her. There is something darker here. There is something brutal and inescapable lingering in the shadows, waiting for them.

* * *

Benezia's body is slumped against the control panel, her final words lingering in the air around them. There is silence around the room, only the faint scratching and wailing of the rachni queen as she claws from her prison. Shepard watches as the alien breaks free from her constraints, the raised holding cell breaching the Noverian surface several feet above them.

Dead asari commandos litter the floor around them. Kaidan is checking any bodies for life signs. Shepard is watching Liara.

She stares at her mother's body, how her head is slumped over her shoulder, her lips parted in her last breath, the faint ebb of biotic energy leaking from her body until it fades into the floor at their feet. There is everything still and final and broken about the matriarch's form on the floor before them.

Liara closes her eyes and hums a song Shepard does not recognize. Her voice is lined with tears she is not ready to shed, her fists clenched and shaking at her sides and she cannot move to touch the fallen body of her mother. So she stands, and she breathes, and she sings softly to herself in a voice she hopes will sound like _her_ one day.

It is all she can do not to break in this moment.

Shepard stands beside her watching uselessly. She has no words that will make any of this better. So she turns and leaves Liara to her grief.

* * *

It isn't until she finds herself sitting in the mess hall across from Liara and Garrus that she recognizes the change in Liara. The asari is silent, solid in her seat, lifted somehow in a way that makes Sheard ache at the pain of it. Liara's eyes are low and determined, regretful in ways Shepard will never understand. But she smiles nonetheless, and Liara finds the tears quick to her eyes, her smile shaking in response.

Garrus puts his fork down, his vulnerable "Hey…" muted and low between them, his arm coming up to wrap around Liara's shoulders and Shepard catches the break in her face before she is crumbling into Garrus's side. This is the first they have seen her cry since her mother's death.

Shepard catches the eye of several marines around the mess and everyone leaves with an unspoken knowledge. Liara's hiccups and sobs are smothered in Garrus's chest, and Shepard feels the urge to reach a hand across the table to either of them, both of them, anyone really. Because she thinks that touch is needed here. Because she knows what physical intimacy means. And because she doesn't know how to be there for someone in the simplest of ways. She doesn't know how to bandage grief. She doesn't know how to be 'that person'. That shoulder. So she keeps her hands in her lap and clears the room with a glance, lets the quiet and Garrus hold Liara instead as she cries and shakes.

Garrus and Shepard look at each other. And they know the worst is still to come.

* * *

Shepard finds herself lounging in one of the navigator's chairs in the cockpit sometime after the Noveria mission. Her limbs are heavy, her body slumped and she has too little energy to trade snark with Joker at this moment.

"So is it just a matriarch thing?" he asks beside her.

Shepard raises a brow in Joker's direction and finds him sliding star charts across his pilot terminal. He's not even looking at her.

"What is?" Shepard is not even sure she wants to ask the question.

"The chest." Joker raises a lewd brow in Shepard's direction and she pulls a hand to her mouth, unable to catch all the laughter from spilling forth. But she pulls in a sobering breath and narrows her eyes at her pilot.

"Joker, this is hardly the time. Liara just lost her mother." But Shepard is too exhausted to put a more demanding tone behind her statement.

Joker just shrugs and returns to his terminal. "Come on, Commander, it's not like I'm about to ask Liara her mom's bust size. I'm a tad more sensitive than that."

"Are you? I couldn't tell." Her smirk is the first she's felt in days, and before Joker can answer she stands from her seat, pats his arm affectionately and walks from the cockpit.

"Two hours to Binthu, Commander, in case you got too distracted to ask," Joker shouts behind her.

Shepard sucks in her reply and keeps moving, shaking her head.

* * *

Admiral Kahoku's last message spurs something furious and regretful in Shepard. She is grabbing her gear from the weapon bench as the engineers ready the Mako. Behind her, her team waits for orders. Her instinct is to take Garrus. She has never questioned his loyalty. But she stops. Remembers the reputation that Cerberus has. She motions for Kaidan and Ashley to follow. This is a human problem. And she wants human eyes to take this in. Somehow she feels that this ugliness shouldn't be seen by others.

It's a foolish thought. A useless hope. But when they find Kahoku's body limp and cold upon the floor of the research lab on Binthu, Shepard is surprisingly glad that this horrible mess of ambition and disregard for life is not visible to her alien teammates still waiting aboard the Normandy.

She looks to Ashley, and the Gunnery Chief opens her mouth in some comforting gesture. But there are no words for this kind of hideousness. So she closes it, silently. Ashley can only bend to retrieve the dog tags from around the admiral's neck. She holds them tight in her palm, whispers something that sounds religious to Shepard and then the Gunnery Chief is hard and ready and determined once more. Shepard wants to say something. Wants to make sense of this. But Ashley eyes her in a way that speaks of something stronger than words, her hold on her shotgun tight and sure, and Shepard knows that _this_ , this Ashley Williams before her, this is the humanity she needs to remember when she finds herself knee deep in Cerberus research projects.

Behind them, Kaidan is looking at the floor, his own remorse bleeding into the air around them, and Shepard finds her hand along his shoulder before she knows she is moving to him. He looks at her, the slight quirk of his lip moving in recognition, and his eyes are grateful on hers. She lingers with him longer than is appropriate, and it is only Ashley's expectant clearing of her throat that moves Shepard form her lieutenant. Kaidan nods in gratitude, and together, the three of them exit the death-filled chamber, hoping the humanity they carry with them is strong enough to outweigh this horror around them.

The air stinks of mortality. And Shepard is relieved to find the steady breaths of Kaidan and Ashley beside her as they make their way up the tunnel toward the awaiting Mako.

* * *

"Holy _fuuuc_ -!" Shepard scrambles from her cover of crates just as a grenade blows the stockpiled fuel cells beside her. She dives left, tumbling back into the stairway of the mercenary bunker. She grapples for the railing to hold her fall, her ears almost blowing out with the sound of the blast and she feels the wall of the stairwell vibrate when the debris and shrapnel blow into it. Gritting her teeth, she clambers back up the couple of stairs and leans against the wall for cover, peeking out momentarily to case the room.

"Dammit, Garrus, I said cover me!" Shepard catches sight of the turian several feet across from her on the other wall of the room, hunched behind more crates, his sniper locked and spitting bullets. She curses into the communication link in her helmet. She can hear the pirates scrambling at the other end of the bunker's room from them, between bullets shredding the crates the Normandy team were using as cover.

Garrus only shrugs, one hand raised in defense and Shepard could swear she sees his smirk behind his visor. "It'd be a lot easier if you didn't crouch in the proximity of fuel cells. I know you don't read asari, Shepard, but that little flame symbol tends to mean 'explosive'."

Shepard scoffs, reaching around the wall to send a bullet sailing through the skull of a pirate sprinting for cover. "Screw you, Vakarian!" But her voice is equal mix humor and grit. "I was about to sprint anyway."

He laughs loudly. "You were taking too long." Garrus reloads his Mantis. Another headshot. More pirates flood in from the east entrance.

"Then your aim better be faster than your mouth this time." Shepard grins devilishly, her breathing heavy behind her visor. She feels a biotic throw pound into the wall of the stairwell and Shepard takes the moment to jump from her cover and run for Garrus' position. He shouts in sudden surprise, unleashing several shots as she sprints for him. She slides into the space next to him, bullets thudding the floor her feet were pounding just a fraction of a second ago. The crates are large enough for both of them but she collides into him when she slides for cover and his responding "oof" and unintelligible curse are drowned out by the hail of bullets from the new wave of pirates and mercenaries coming in at the far end of the room.

Shepard only snickers, punching his arm and grabbing for her rifle. "Ready?"

He laughs, shaking his head at her as he steadies himself from their collision. When he nods, they break from cover and move in unison.

* * *

"So we're just hired guns now, Commander? Good to see the human tax dollars at work."

"Hardly, Joker. But I'm still a Spectre. And Dahlia Dantius was a slave trader. Ergo, big bloody battle with me on top. It had to happen."

"You're like a reluctant Robin Hood of the galaxy. Righting wrongs and fighting crime."

"That doesn't even make sense. There's no tyrant king in this situation."

"Well, that all depends on what day of the week it is for the Council."

"So, what? You're all my Merry Men? Wait a minute, don't answer that. There is so much wrong in that analogy I don't even know where to begin."

"Yeah, maybe I didn't think that one through."

"I know! You're all like…my Spectre-ettes."

"Ooh, low blow, Shepard. Not even 'Spectre gang'? _Spectre-ettes?_   You just had to go there, didn't you? Sounds like a group of backup singers."

"I'll even let you work the harmonies, Joker."

"Gee thanks, boss."

* * *

"So where does the name Alenko come from anyway?" Shepard removes the barrel from her Mantis and begins to pull apart the trigger mechanism, careful not to upset the micro-scaled mass accelerator. Beside her at the weapon bench, Kaidan is also breaking down and cleaning his Cobra pistol.

"It comes from Vancouver," he chuckles, throwing a soft smirk in her direction.

"Oh yes, I've heard of that tribe before."

Kaidan laughs, and the sound is light and natural and everything that Shepard thinks is good. She swallows, her throat suddenly tight. He is standing close enough for her to sense his body heat beside her. Their elbows bump, and she feels the inexplicable urge to watch his hands as they move over his pistol. Those sure and purposeful hands.

"I think it's some variation of Greek actually."

His voice brings her attention back to her own weapon and she flicks her gaze up to catch his eye.

"My grandmother told me something about it once." His smile is soft and nostalgic, and Shepard wants to know what that feels like. She turns back to her work as he continues. "How Alenko was derived from Alenka, and that from Alena and then Helena and then finally starting with Helen somewhere down the line of Greek heritage."

"Wait," Shepard can't help the look of disbelief that crosses her features. "You're named after a woman?"

"You know," Kaidan chuckles, the spring in his hand coming up to point at Shepard, "Helen of Troy was considered the most beautiful. So maybe it was _that_ that my ancestors tried to pass down."

"Ah, beauty." Shepard licks her lips absently, her eyes on the laid out weapon before her while she grabs a cleaning rag from the drawer at the edge. "Now, that I can see in you." Her eyes are subtle on his when he looks to her, and there is a silence passed between them that is anything from uncomfortable. Kaidan glances unconsciously to her lips before clearing his throat and returning to his work. Shepard feels the corners of her lips tilting up in a sly smile.

"There are some other names – very manly I promise – in my family."

Shepard releases a snorted laugh at Kaidain's statement.

Kaidan raises an eyebrow to her and continues. "My mother's maiden name was 'Skala'. It's Slavic, from someplace called Czech or something. I forget all the family tree information. Especially since the European countries have changed borders so much in the last three hundred years. Anyway, 'Skala' is supposed to mean 'rock' I believe." He finds this trading of words with Shepard unforced and effortless. There is something soothing in her mere presence beside him. "And then the other main family name is Doru. Romanian from _dor_ , if my grandfather knows what he's talking about." At this Kaidan eyes Shepard, her focused greenish-brown eyes, her dark tangled hair pulled into a braid down her back, the tan smooth skin, the quiet fierceness, the bold, unblinking willpower, the subtle, vulnerable burden of command. He brushes against her absently. "It means 'longing'."

Shepard blinks. There is something laden and craving in his voice then. It makes her skin grow warm beneath her uniform and she finds herself unable to look at him then. She swallows thickly and keeps working, feeling his gaze on her the entire time. He looks back to his pistol after a few moments and Shepard wonders at this fear, at this thrilling exposure she feels.

She wonders what his lips taste like.

"And you?"

Shepard whips her head around to look at him, her "What?" breathless and shaky.

Kaidan motions to her with the part in his hand. "Your family name. What's in your heritage?"

Shepard opens her mouth in understanding and then closes it, because words are suddenly impossible at the way he is looking at her now. She didn't think he could ever make her feel powerless. There is silence between them for a second before Shepard moves to wipe the length of the gun barrel in her hand, her voice steady and sure now in a way she didn't feel at all in this moment. "Well, 'Shepard' is pretty self-explanatory. It's from the English side of my family. For 'sheperd', you know, herder."

"Leader."

Shepard smiles at Kaidan's input. "Yeah. The majority of my family is English, Irish, Hungarian, Spanish and Italian. Odd mix, I know," she finishes at Kaidan's questioning look.

"How do you know all this, if you don't mind my asking," Kaidan wonders softly, "if you were orphaned at such a young age?"

Shepard sighs in a way that tells Kaidan family is a strange and dangerous thing for her. Full of wounds and hurt and loss. And it is always present. "When I became N7 I gained access to certain census data. Anderson let me look through files for information on my family."

"What did you find?" The room felt so hollow and empty then. There was only Shepard before him.

Her eyes are far-off and regretful when she finally answers. Her voice haunted in ways Kaidan will never understand. "A lot of dead bodies. And no answers to speak of."

"I'm sorry, Shepard, I didn't – " Her name slips from his lips without him realizing and it has never felt so right before.

"Don't worry about it, Kaidan," she offers before he can finish apologizing, a hand coming up to hold his arm, and her touch lingers unsurely.

Kaidan averts his gaze, because if he continues to look at her like this he won't be able to stop at such an innocent touch. His skin burns for her. There is so much he wants to hold and taste and _feel_. It isn't until he must look away that he realizes how strong this pull is to her. He can't ignore it any longer.

Shepard clears her throat and drops her hand from him, moving her attention back to cleaning her weapon. "But I did find out about some heritage."

Kaidan fiddles with his pistol chamber and nods for her to continue.

"The English and Irish was on my Dad's side. The other family name there was 'Durnin'. It's supposed to be Gaelic for a 'descendant of Doirnín' or some such shit."

Kaidan quirks a brow at her choice of words.

"Supposed to mean 'little fist'."

Kaidan bursts out laughing unexpectedly and Shepard just stands there blinking at him. He holds a hand to his stomach to stop the laughing, and he looks at her, his other hand bracing him against the weapon bench. "I'm sorry," he breathes between chuckling. "It's just…the _irony_." He pulls himself together, wiping a hand at his eye and slowly moving back to his position at the bench while Shepard shakes her head and grumbles beside him. "Tell me you laughed when you read that."

The sly smile Shepard is unable to hide is answer enough for him.

"Anyway," she urges, pulling his attention back, "My mom's side had the Spanish, Italian and Hungarian. Probably where I get this unmanageable hair," she finishes, flicking her thick braid over her shoulder. "The Spanish family name was 'Oleastro'. Can't remember exactly if it meant 'olive tree' or 'dweller by the wild olive tree' or something else entirely that I'm butchering." She chuckles softly.

The two continue working together comfortably, her words flowing naturally between them and nothing has ever felt so easy.

"The main Italian name was 'Lagorio'. I didn't find much on that. Something about a green lizard that protects against vipers. But that might be ancient bullshit. And my mother's maiden name was the Hungarian 'Vadas'." Here Shepard stops and smiles devilishly at Kaidan. "Means 'wild animal'."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," he chuckles faintly. He receives a punch to the arm in response and they bump against each other momentarily, laughing and scraping before Shepard finds her face suddenly close to Kaidan's, her breath caught in the space between them. They each still in unison, and Kaidan cannot help the way his thumb grazes her wrist as he holds her arm in his. He is leaning toward her before he can question himself, his eyes dark and unhindered. Shepard feels herself tremble inside when she looks at him, but something tight and anchored in her heart makes her pull her free hand up to rest against his chest in the slightest pressure. It halts his lean forward, and his face crumbles in shame, as he instantly pulls away.

"Shepard, I'm – I mean Commander, I'm sorry. That was completely inappropriate and –"

"No, Kaidan," she is shaking her head, pulling him back to her. He stands before her, just as close as earlier, but his gaze is to the floor, his shoulders broad and straight and back to regulation. But her touch is tender and shaking and everything that screams of openness when she reaches a hand to his chin to make him look at her.

Their eyes meet and Shepard bites her lip, unable to explain why she is unable to move to him. "You did nothing wrong. _Nothing_." She hopes he understands that this is not his fault.

Kaidan opens his mouth to say something. But he is caught in this tangle of rank and emotion and nothing he thinks to say sounds right one way or the other. But he will not betray what seems natural with her. So he swallows thickly, reaches for her hand on his face and pulls her touch from him. He cannot think straight when she is this close. So he steps back. "I can't stop thinking of kissing you."

Shepard blinks in surprise at his admission, still and motionless in the wake of his words. That voice. That conviction.

"And maybe I was misinterpreting signals on your part. But if I'm not, and you want this as much as I do," his eyes grow hooded and there is something yearning in his gaze, "then the ball is in your court. You know where I stand, Commander."

Shepard licks her lips and feels her chest rising in shaky breathes.

"I'll let you finish your work here," Kaidan motions to the bench where their weapons were still laid out. "I'll work on mine when the bench is free. I have a marine detail to oversee. Commander."

His salute is stiff and forced and Shepard cannot do anything but watch his back as he retreats toward the elevator.

* * *

"Something doesn't smell right," Wrex grumbles into the air, just as Ashley walks over to the remaining floundering geth and unleashes a blast from her shotgun into its chest cavity. The twitching, stuttering synthetic finally falls silent on the ground and Ashley glances back at all the other geth littering the Zhu's Hope docking port.

"A platoon of dead geth? I'd say there's nothing wrong with that." Ashley wipes the barrel of her shotgun and then holsters it.

Shepard eyes Wrex. She's already in a foul mood and really not looking for something else to add. "What is it?"

He sniffs the air for a second, finding nothing distinctive enough to trace, and shakes his head. "I don't know. But every nerve in my body is screaming for blood. Just watch yourselves."

Shepard nods appreciatively to Wrex. First geth, and now some krogan spidey sense. Shepard wants to hit something.

* * *

"Of _course_ it's a giant living plant. Because we don't have enough weird shit in this galaxy. We need to throw in killer flora." Shepard rubs a hand down her face and hears Ashley snickering behind her.

Lizbeth Baynham eyes the Commander curiously.

Wrex charges his shotgun. "Well, this just got fun."

* * *

"Alright, use the gas grenades to incapacitate the colonists. But at the end of the day, we only have so many. After that, use any and all force necessary to get to that underground entrance. Understood?"

"No problem here," Wrex bellows, his grin breaking free along the hard planes of his face, his shotgun already ready in his hands.

Shepard narrows her eyes at him. "Only _after_ we run out of gas, Wrex."

"You spoil all my fun, Shepard." He's itching for a fight with something that actually bleeds. Geth are too…shiny.

"Commander." Ashley's voice is firm and unafraid. "Isn't there another way? These colonists have been through a lot. I don't want their blood on my hands if this goes south."

Shepard eyes her Gunnery Chief briefly, and something she thought she lost back on Earth made her hesitate for a moment. But it is gone quickly and she finds the words already ready on her tongue. She does not falter. "Tough shit, Williams. You signed up to be a soldier. Sometimes you do shit you don't want to do."

"But Commander – "

Shepard's eyes flash and even Wrex can sense her immediate anger.

"Listen up, Chief," Shepard spits in Ashley's face, her finger jutting into the other woman's chest. "When you're busy trying to simply knock one unconscious, or disarm them, another one is going to catch you from behind and they won't be using the safety on their weapons. So when your brains are spilling out on the floor and I have no one covering my back, _then_ you can wonder if there isn't another way. Until then, you fall in line. The mission is what matters. Do you understand?" There is something hard and sharp and unreadable in Shepard's eyes, her mouth tight and pulled into a deep frown.

Ashley feels the urge to argue rising in her throat, feels the words collecting there with stinging vehemence. But this is not the time. And some part of her knows that when it comes down to her or them, she will never hesitate to pull the trigger. But she hates that Shepard says it. She hates that it _must_ be said. So her eyes harden and she puts the focus on the current mission. She nods abruptly, her jaw clenched. "Yes, Ma'am!"

Shepard sighs, a sound so faint and weary that Ashley barely hears it. But she understands then that Shepard hates it too. Hates that the call must be made. Hates that she will _always_ be the one to make the call. Hates that life and breath and chances are cut short at her hands. But this is the life she chose. And she knows how to walk away when the bodies hit the floor. She knows how to walk away with some semblance of sanity in this brutal, bloody galaxy. It is all she can do to wake up the next day and remember the lives that still need saving. She does not pretend that it is easy. She does not promise her crew clear skies or blank rounds. But she has always promised her loyalty, always promised her fierce support, always promised to be that gun watching their backs as they creep forward through the dark and disturbing alleys of space. She has always promised herself to her crew.

Ashley swallows down that sharp pang of fear and guilt, following the Commander as they make their way up the ramp and into the tower. She finds she would follow this woman anywhere. Even to death.


	3. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'I knew who I was leaving behind. And I made the choice. It's not going to get easier, Kaidan. You're not going to stop feeling this.'" - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

Sheparding Men

Chapter Three: Lost

 _"'I knew who I was leaving behind. And I made the choice. It's not going to get easier, Kaidan. You're not going to stop feeling this.'"_ \- A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life.  Memory.  Passion.  Constancy.  These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

The Thorian is dead. The cipher is fresh in Shepard's mind. The recurring vision of dying Protheans, the pleading cry piercing through the fog of the beacon's wail. The failed and gory warning. The collective knowledge and fear and waning of an entire species. Shepard holds a hand to her heart and feels the weight of death lingering there, lying in wait for her. She hears the screams and feels the wounds, she _knows_ the experience of death through this dark cipher. She bears every frantic cry and desperate breath of the Protheans' downfall. She watches the demise of an empire through sickened eyes and every drop of her blood screams in defiance. She closes her eyes and thinks of Earth. Kaidan's face appears behind her lids.

* * *

Shepard finds herself lying awake in her cot most nights. She watches the sleek wisp of stars past her window. She watches the strips of space between balls of light and feels lost. She has known only one home. She has known only one Earth. There is something far-off and doomed about the Normandy. Something heavy in her hull. This ship speeds Shepard towards her death. She knows it. Feels it when she lies awake aching at nights. She does not want to be alone in this empty, endless space.

* * *

"What's it like?"

Tali's question is soft and hesitant. Shepard turns her gaze to the quarian as the Mako shakes around them, still within the Normandy's cargo hold as they lower to Earth's moon. Liara is strapping herself into the cockpit, readying the gears for landing. The cool, grey horizon of Luna sleeps below them. Shepard is checking her rifle when Tali's voice sounds across from her. She watches her on the bench.

"Earth. What's it like?" Tali is still and unsure across from Shepard.

Shepard blinks and stills her hands on her Mantis. "I'm…probably not the person to ask."

"You're exactly the person to ask." Tali sits with her elbows on her knees, her hands grasping her shotgun before her.

There is the steady rumble as they enter the Moon's atmosphere and the slight jump of the momentum-dampeners as the cargo doors slowly open. A glimpse of the galaxy comes into view. Shepard can see the looming orb of Earth through the Mako's window. Fresh and luring and dangerous.

"It's…crowded." It is the first thing that comes to mind but Tali makes no motion to question her so Shepard continues. "And warm. It's…solid, beneath your feet." She closes her eyes and leans her head back against the Mako's side, resting the butt of her sniper rifle on the floor between her legs, her fingers gripping the cold barrel. "There are cities of great technology, of tall buildings and light and movement. And there are great planes of destruction." Shepard frowns, her eyes still resting shut. "Miles of burnt ash and dying trees that used to stand for cities. Empty fields. Holes. There are holes in my home."

The release of the Mako's cargo clamps jolts them momentarily as they descend to the moon's surface, flying free of the Normandy's hold and Tali can see the shrinking image of their ship in the window above her. She breathes silently across from Shepard and turns her gaze to catch a hint of green from Earth's surface as the thrusters kick in.

"It's disconnected." Shepard's voice is steady in the heavy thrum of burning atmosphere, her eyes still closed, her head still resting against the Mako's hull at her back. "But it's just lost. And lonely. And some days I swear it cries."

Shepard opens her eyes just as Tali turns her gaze to the commander. "It makes you feel important and useless all at once. It makes you yearn for the stars, and then makes you yearn for home once you're out there in space." Shepard finds the words suddenly heavy in her throat. Her remembrance of Earth is shattering and painful and exhilarating.

The sudden kick of the thrusters sound in their ears and Shepard and Tali feel the harsh and recognizable landing of the Mako on solid ground, their hands instinctively moving to grasp the handles in the wall for balance. The sudden break and rumbling dies quickly and Liara is looking back from her driver's seat to check on the two. Shepard nods resolutely and the steady tread of the Mako's tires on rock reverberates around them as Liara turns to the controls. Shepard feels herself shaking in motion with the vehicle. She looks out the starboard window and watches the ever-present image of Earth behind the glass.

Tali grips her shotgun and turns her gaze to the floor.

Shepard cannot stop staring at Earth through the window. "It's crazy, how Earth can feel so familiar and new all at once. How it can force you into change." Shepard feels the lodge of emotion in her throat and the faint image of her mother is just behind her eyelids. But it is momentary and fleeting and not enough to help her _remember_. "How everything can feel like home and yet not feel _lived in_." She sighs, and she wipes the distant pull of family from her mind. "It's like a story you tell yourself every night to sleep. And when you wake you can't remember what is true and what is not."

Tali lifts her gaze to watch Shepard from her seat on the Mako' bench. The slight jarring and tumble of the vehicle jostles her and makes her pull her shotgun back into it's holster along her back, resting her hands against the bench to steady herself. There is so much she wants to say. But the image of a blue Earth outside their window stills her tongue in ways she cannot express.

Shepard sighs and moves to stand as she hears Liara's announcement of the Luna facility's proximity. She grabs a steadying handle in the ceiling and turns to the silent quarian. She swallows, and there is something longing and forgotten in her voice when she speaks. Her chest aches with recollection and desire. "Earth is like memory."

Tali stands as well, her own grip on the ceiling sure and fixed. "It sounds beautiful."

There is silence between the two for almost the full mission, until the last of the VI is destroyed and Shepard stands outside one of the bunkers, her rifle hanging at her side in her grip. She is staring up at the bright, beckoning taunt that is Earth. She can hear her own breath in her helmet, feel the slight prickling and weightlessness of the moon's gravity. She cannot stop staring.

Tali is suddenly beside her.

And the words are scared and regretful. "I miss it." Shepard's breath is sharp and halted between them. "I miss it so much." There is the slight choke of air on her words. "I don't know how I got so lost."

Tali moves to lay her head on Shepard's shoulder, her arm linking with the commander's beside her and her voice is even and familiar when she whispers her soft "I know". It floats in the air around them until Shepard can breathe steady, until she can look at the Earth and move to turn away. Until she can swallow down that sharp pang of need. She moves a hand to the comm. link in her ear. "Joker. We're ready for pickup. Get us off this rock."

Tali stands quietly beside her, watching, and Shepard opens her mouth to speak but the words die in her throat and she can only look at the quarian, feeling selfish and spoiled and guilty for knowing Earth. And for leaving it.

But Tali only links her arm once more with Shepard's and turns to look at Earth from their place on the moon. It is everything striking and unattainable. But Tali smiles behind her mask and holds Shepard's willing arm in her own. "We won't let the Reapers have it."

Shepard feels her face crumbling at Tali's words and it is only the cold and heavy weight of Luna's atmosphere that keeps her from falling to her knees in tears. She doesn't know if she's ready for this. She doesn't know if she's ready for _any_ of this.

Tali does not release her hold until the Normandy is within sight.

* * *

It is silent and barely-there when Kaidan realizes it. When the biotic terrorist's Throw is beaming toward him and suddenly Shepard's body is in his sight. When she is flinging herself before him and the heavy pound of biotic energy at her back makes her scream in sudden pain. When she hasn't the footing or the power to hold herself and she is flying into him, crashing their bodies into the heavy crate behind them. When he blinks in surprise and watches as she grits her teeth and pulls herself to her feet above him, her arm already swinging out to aim at the incoming terrorist. When her roar of fury is loud and bellowing and shaking. When her bullet rips through the enemy biotic's chest. When he sees her body trembling and hunched in pain, her eyes flashing to his as her hand moves out to reach for his own. When she is pulling him to his feet and there is the heavy heat between their bodies. When she clenches her jaw and there is something vulnerable in her eyes.

The rumble of Wrex's exploding shotgun pulls their attention back to the fight and Shepard is once more charging and furious and powerful.

When Kaidan remembers the weight of her body shielding his. He knows where she stands as well.

* * *

"Chicken pox, Pressly? Where in the hell did you catch that?" Shepard stands with her arms crossed watching her Navigator as he sits atop the med-bay table while Chakwas holds the scanner over him. Pressly sighs and moves to scratch at his neck, only to have his hand slapped away by Chakwas.

"Geez, Karin, it's just an itch. Come on, it's killing me!" Pressly's plead makes Shepard chuckle as she watches the two.

"Charles, I already gave you something for the itching. If you continue to scratch I will be forced to sedate you." Doctor Chakwas intones warningly as her scanner sounds a beep of completion and she moves to the computer to input the results.

"You're enjoying this, I just know it," he answers irritably. Pressly's shoulders slump and his frown is so mock petulant that Shepard almost doesn't recognize this man as her usual navigator. It makes her smile in a way she hasn't in a long time.

"When will he be fit for duty?" Shepard looks to Chakwas as the doctor leans over the computer.

"I want to keep him quarantined until his fever is down."

Pressly moves to stand and holds a hand to his forehead, a slight wave of dizziness washing over him. "There's no need for that, I just need some rest in my quarters, Commander. The doctor's drugs will flush this out shortly."

Chakwas stands and puts a hand to her hip. "It is most definitely necessary, Charles. The rest of the Alliance crew may have already had chicken pox or the vaccine, but we have no idea how our alien crew members may react should they come into contact with the virus."

Shepard grinds her jaw and nods in agreement.

Pressly leans back against the med-bay table. "I didn't…I didn't think about that." His eyes move to the ground momentarily, almost as if in shame, and it is enough to show Shepard the growth this man has seen. Enough for her to witness a change in a friend. It is decidedly welcome.

"Of course you didn't," Chakwas soothes calmly, as she moves to help Pressly back atop the bed. "But I'm the ship's doctor. It is my job to think of these things. So you will stay here until my scans read the virus as inactive in your system.

"Of course, Doctor." Pressly is quiet and willing as he takes her direction to the bed once more.

Shepard watches the scene and, for a moment, is free of this weight on her heart.

* * *

Virmire is the closest they have gotten to Saren. Shepard is filled with an anxiousness and a thrilling fear. Her body thrums in anticipation. She urges Joker to fly faster. She will later regret this.

* * *

"Goddamnit, I'm tired of all these stairs. Fuck it," Shepard throws out as she moves toward the ledge of the bridge overlooking the Mako's position. They had stopped to clear the geth presence on the bridge as they drove through the water-logged paths winding through Virmire's landscape to get to the salarian camp. And Shepard has had enough of walking up and down stairs to clear the synthetics from the bridges.

"Uh, Shepard, it's pretty slippery," Tali begins as she watches Shepard preparing to jump from the concrete ledge to the top of the Mako below them.

"It's only a few feet. Don't worry." Shepard leaps.

"I don't think – " Tali's hesitant warning is cut short by Shepard's surprised shriek as her boots slip form under her on the vehicle's wet surface and then the loud thump of Shepard falling on her ass atop the hard metal of the Mako. Her moan of pain is long and low.

Garrus's laughter fills the air around them. Tali stands above the concrete ledge, both hands held to her mouth in surprise and trying desperately to keep the giggles at bay as Shepard pushes off stiffly from the Mako, landing with her boots splashing in the water below. She cannot tell if the quarian is smiling behind her mask. She rubs at her backside tenderly, her cheeks already burning in embarrassment and she scowls as she looks up to see Garrus laughing loudly at her.

* * *

They are waiting and watchful on the beach of Virmire when Kirrahe first alerts them to Saren's plans for the breeding facility. When Ashley first suggests the possibility of putting down Wrex, Shepard is filled with an anger and disappointment she has never felt before. Her words are harsh and sharp to the Gunnery Chief, and Ashley clamps her jaw in silence, but not obedience. It is only then that Shepard realizes the extent of Ashley's loyalty, the hard decision in her conscience.

Ashley eyes Shepard in silent patience. It is not a hatred of aliens, it is not a personal dislike of Wrex, it has nothing at all to do with Wrex. It has everything to do with Ashley's unwillingness to abandon her commanding officer. Everything to do with Ashley's urge to protect Shepard, to commit herself fully and utterly to this mission, even if she must be the one to pull the trigger on a friend.

Shepard calms herself, pulls Ashley aside and takes several moments and breaths to express the words along her tongue. "You don't need to do this, Ash. I appreciate it, but it's okay. I would not ask you to put yourself in the middle of this.'

"No offense, Shepard, but I don't care what you'd ask of me. If he moves on you, I'll kill him." Ashley's words are short and unhindered, her stance solid and unmovable in the presence of Shepard.

The commander cannot hide her smirk at Ashley's boldness. She hopes it will not be necessary. "Let me talk to him. I don't think it'll come to death."

Ashley straightens and watches Shepard through guarded eyes. "'While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, we men who in our mourn of youth defied the elements, must vanish ; – be it so!' I will not cower. He should not either."

Shepard stills at Ashley's words, at the familiarity of a Tennyson poem they had shared earlier in the week while Shepard was visiting Ashley at her station. Something about it had held fast in her heart. She watches Ashley through vigilant eyes. In that simple admission she had opened her heart for the slaughter. She had voiced her allegiance and done it without regrets. Shepard could not ask for more of a soldier. She could not ask for more of a friend.

* * *

Wrex is still and composed beside them, but Shepard knows he is far from calm. He has listened to her, and trusted her in ways she knows she can never betray. And though his gun is lowered and his obedience of her orders voiced, she still does not trust to bring him into the breeding facility with her. So she asks him and Liara to protect Kaidan as he prepares the bomb, and instead takes Garrus and Tali with her into the thick of it. She watches Ashley as she heads off with the salarian soldiers and waves a last reassuring salute to her chief. Ashley nods and loads her shotgun in confidence. It is the last Shepard will see of her smile.

* * *

Shepard's body is worn and trembling with fatigue when they reach the looming beacon in Saren's research labs. There is something dark and foreboding about this one. Something that makes her steps heavy and reluctant toward it. When the deep, hollow voice of Sovereign fills the hall Shepard finally recognizes that dark feeling anchored in her heart. That fear.

As the identity of the Reapers is slowly revealed to them, as the secrets of Saren's planned genocide are laid out, Shepard's mind is racing with thoughts and memories and denials. She shakes her head, shuts her eyes to the rich bellow of Sovereign. She swallows and finds her breathes quick and uncontrollable.

She is galaxies away from the strength she needs to beat this peril. She is one person caught in this mess of galactic extinction. She is useless in the face of such a threat, small against the magnitude of such an enemy.

Tali and Garrus are steadfast beside her.

Shepard blinks her eyes open and watches the red, burning image if Sovereign on the console. Her rifle is heavy and reassuring in her hand. She hates this helplessness, hates this stillness. She needs to move. Needs to shoot something. Needs to _do_ something. Needs to feel the life beating in her blood. Needs to remind herself that she is not done yet. She is _not_ done yet.

She will not sit back and do nothing, simply because she can do little. It matters. It all matters.

She slings forced bravado at the taunting Reaper. Inside, she is shaking.

* * *

"Everyone to the Normandy!" Shepard's shout is drowned out by hailing bullets and geth rocket launchers, the heavy weight of Kaidan slung over her shoulders and Garrus is suddenly beside her to help her. Tali is already running up the cargo ramp while Wrex stands at the top, his shotgun shuddering in his hand with every shot he unleashes on the following geth. Liara biotically throws three synthetics coming up on their right while Shepard and Garrus haul Kaidan's semi-conscious body up the ramp. Before she can even reach the top she sees Kirrahe and several salarian soldiers move from inside the Normandy's hull onto the ramp to join the firefight. It gives her and Garrus an unhindered path into the Normandy. She reaches a hand to the comm. link in her ear as they make it into the cargo hold and watches as Wrex, Tali, Liara and the salarians fend off incoming geth, slowly backing into the hold themselves. "Joker, get us the hell out of here!"

Joker's answering "Aye, aye ma'am!" is sure in her ear and she feels the heavy lift and shaking of the Normandy as the cargo bay doors slide closed and her crew rush to her side. It is all happening in seconds too short for Shepard to grasp. She looks up to see soldiers rushing from the elevator to greet them, grabbing Kaidan from her and she holds his gaze for a quick moment before she lets him be carried away to the med-bay. She can still hear the pounding of bullets on their hull as they begin to slowly lift off and her groundside crew move to strap themselves in.

The ship shakes with the resounding boom of a rocket exploding near the cargo bay doors and Shepard stumbles at the impact. Kirrahe steadies her quickly and shouts through the bombardment and rumbling of the Normandy's firing engines. "We only have a handful of minutes to get to a safe distance, Commander."

Shepard nods silently and finds herself running to the command deck. "Joker, pull up a view of the facility! I'm on my way up there."

Joker answers quickly over the line.

Shepard is sprinting with a renewed vigor that quakes in her muscles. "Williams, can you hear me? Come in, Ash!" Shepard is shouting into her comm. link, running up the length of the ship.

"All hands to their stations!" Joker's command sounds in the ship's speakers. "It's about to get bumpy."

Shepard can hear her own breath tight and frantic as her boots thump the gangway.

"- ere, Commander. I'm here." The crackling of their communication line is sharp in Shepard's ear, punctured by the sound of gunfire on the other side.

"Ashley, we're all aboard. Make a run for it." Shepard's voice is frenzied and thick with dread. It's so stupid. So stupid and useless and she cannot stand this foolish hope that breathes within her. But she will not say it aloud. She makes it to the galaxy map and grabs for the railing to steady herself, breathless and exhausted. She hears a scoff from Ashley's line.

"I can't outrun a blast like this. We both knew the consequences, Commander. Besides, we're pinned down. No way out now." Ashley's own voice is firm and accepting.

She knows this. But she will not be the one to say it. Shepard grips the railing and stares into the ground. She tries to rein in her breathing.

"I need you to do something for me, Commander." Ashley's request is followed by the blast of her shotgun and a soft curse under her breath. Shepard can hear the remaining salarian members of Kirrahe's squad fighting beside Ashley through the open line. "Anything, Chief." She pulls her gaze up to watch the image of the Virmire facility in the retreating view on screen before her.

Ashley's breathing is heavy and weighted, her voice shaking, and Shepard wants more than anything to be able to look her in the eye in this moment.

"I know you're not the religious sort or anything Commander, but can you – " her voice breaks unexpectedly and if Shepard had not known her Chief better she might have thought she heard tears. But Ashley shakes it away and pulls in a deep breath, firing another shot around her cover. "I need you to contact my mother and sisters. Tell them…tell them I'm with God now."

Shepard pulls a hand to her mouth and feels the anger and helplessness and regret claw up her throat. She is suddenly nauseous and trembling. She is nodding, trying desperately to keep from being sick. The Normandy speeds away relentlessly. The whole ship shakes around her. "I will. I will, Ash."

"It's been…" there is a grunt of pain and more gunfire. "It's been an _honor_ …to serve with you, ma'am."

Shepard shakes her head and stands there useless. She stands there and listens to Ashley die.

There is a sudden scream on Ashley's end and Shepard calls to her frantically for several seconds, her eyes scanning the image of the facility before her as though she could make out a single person's form in the shrinking picture of the base.

Ashley lets out a gasp of pain on the other line, and curses into the air. The gunfire does not subside. "Dammit, I'm hit. I'm hit. Oh God, Shepard." Her voice is scared in a way Shepard has never heard before and she can do nothing but stand there and listen as Ashley writhes in pain. "There's so much blood."

"I'm right here, you hear me?" Shepard swallows down that guilt and sharp ache, tries to steady her voice. She finds the tears hot on her lids. She cannot stop shaking. "I'm right here, Ash. I'm not leaving you."

Ashley coughs into the comm. link and pulls in a wheezing breath as her lungs soak through with blood.

Shepard's grip on the rail tightens and she feels a pang deep-seated and bloody in her chest. There is the sound of an explosion on the other line, but Shepard's eyes have not left the screen and she sees their bomb has not gone off yet. She knows she has only seconds.

Ashley is shuddering on the other end of the line.

"You're the bravest person I know, Ash." Her face crumbles with the words, and she squeezes her eyes shut to the onslaught. There is everything tearing and pointless and inevitable in this moment.

Ashley's tone is soft and punctured with panic. Blood and fear color her voice. "I'm scared, Shepard."

The words break Shepard in ways she has never known and she is suddenly aflame with a hate and madness that she doesn't know how to soothe.

Ashley quakes in her vulnerability. "I'm…I'm so scared, Shepard. Oh God - oh _God!_ Shepard, I don't want to die." Her voice trembles in Shepard's ear.

Shepard clicks the mute on her link just before she throws a reckless fist into the console beside her, her roar of fury drowned out by following tears. She lets the rage rip from her in harsh screams. Several marines look up worriedly from their posts to watch their commander. She quiets quickly, gripping the rail before her to calm herself.

She will not let Ashley hear this in her last moments. She pulls in a deep breath and steadies herself, tries to block out the shuddering gasps from Ashley as she lays there dying. She will not let her go like this. She clicks off the mute on her comm. link. Shepard finds her voice steady and purposeful in a way she will remember for the rest of her life. There is more to be felt here than pain or loss or rage. "'Enough, if something from our hands have power to live, and act, and serve the future hour;'" Shepard hears the uneven shaking of Ashley's breathing soothe slightly, feels the dim pain in her voice lessen, if only for one needful, terrible moment. She swallows and continues the words of Tennyson Ashley had read to her not three days ago. "'And if, as toward the silent tomb we go," Shepard finds her voice lodged in her throat momentarily, but she closes her eyes and swallows down that deep cut of emotion, pushes past the pain and continues, "through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, we feel that we are greater than we know.'"

There is a long silence between them, punctured only by the relentless gunfire on Ashley's end, and the steady thrum of the Normandy's engines on Shepard's side.

There are tears and regret and need lost between them. But for a moment, for a barely there second, Shepard swears she can hear Ashley's smile on the other side.

"Shepard-"

And then the sudden explosion blows a painful feedback into Shepard's comm. and she is shouting in pain, pulling a hand to her pounding head. The ship jostles at a rippling wave speeding from the explosion. She looks up at the screen and it is alight with fire before it cuts to static.

* * *

When Shepard reports to the Council about the events on Virmire, her voice is remote and settled. She calmly accepts the halfhearted condolences of the Council members and acknowledges their request for her return to the Citadel. She alerts Joker to their new course and disconnects the communication terminal.

Kaidan watches from a distance with purposeful eyes.

* * *

When Kaidan finds her, she is straight-backed and dried-eyed. There is no remnant of the woman they glimpsed standing atop the command deck in Ashley's final moments. No weeping, no raging, no mention of their loss. She is simply leaning back against the wall of the Normandy's crew deck and watching the stars through the window. It is the first night since Ashley's death and Kaidan has left his quarters in hopes he'd find her. But not like this.

He watches her and does not believe the coldness in her features. "Shepard." Because they are way past 'Commander' at this point.

She turns to him, and there is something unreadable in her eyes that makes him step closer. "I…How are you?" He swallows and steps close to her.

She pulls herself from the wall and watches him, unflinching. "I'm fine, Kaidan. Was there something you needed?"

The silence is deafening around them in the empty crew deck.

Kaidan narrows his eyes at her in disbelief. The words are quick and harsh on his tongue before he can think to stop them. "How can you possibly be fine?"

Shepard turns her head to eye him in warning, but she does not speak and Kaidan is suddenly incensed without knowing the cause. "Ash is dead, Shepard." He cannot help the way the words come out in accusation. This is not how he wanted this conversation to go.

"I know," she answers lowly, her voice hard and cold in tones Kaidan has never heard from her before. "I'm the one who left her." There is no guilt in the statement. No regret. It throws Kaidan so hard that he moves to grab her arm.

"What is wrong with you? Don't you feel anything?" But he doesn't know how to stop with her. He has never known how to stop when it came to Shepard.

"Lieutenant, you will let go of my arm." Her words are as dead as her eyes. She does not move to shake him.

"No. It's my fault. It's my fault you made that decision. It's because – "

But his words are cut short by her scoff and it surprises him enough to release his hold of her.

"You think you have any weight when it comes to decisions of command?" Her eyes are narrowed sharply at him and she steps into him, her face almost a sneer as she peers up into his face. "You give yourself too much credit."

Kaidan blinks in surprise, his own confusion and guilt and anger blooming dangerously beneath his skin. "Don't lie to me, Shepard."

The planes of shadow in the space between them land in harsh slants across her face. It is a face he has never seen before.

"Not that I need to explain my actions to my _subordinates_ ," she intones meaningfully, her eyes sharp on his, "but I chose to come back for you because you were preparing the bomb. Had you died and Saren got to the bomb to disable it, none of this would have mattered. I made sure that bomb went off." She is suddenly jutting a finger into his chest and her jaw is tight and hard as she watches him through dark eyes. "And you can bet your ass, Kaidan, that if it had been Ashley with the bomb I would have left you in a heartbeat as well. The mission always comes first."

Kaidan swallows thickly at her admission and feels the breath heavy in his chest. All he wants to do is grab her by the arms and shake her. And he doesn't even know who he's angry at anymore. Or what this ache in is chest is all about. He only knows that she doesn't seem to be feeling it the way he is. And he doesn't understand why.

"What did you think? That I killed Ashley so I could do this?" Her words are followed by the sudden warmth of her hands on his face and the urgent pushing of her lips against his. There is a moment of stillness between them when she is urgent against him. He is so taken aback by the assault that he grabs for her wrists and pushes from her.

"What the hell, Shepard?" He wipes at his mouth, his hand shaking. This was not how he wanted her. Not this angry, this cold and ruthless Shepard. This is not how he imagined her lips on his.

She only pushes closer to him. "Isn't this what you wanted, Kaidan? Isn't this what you're secretly relieved can still happen now that Ashley's dead?" Her voice trembles slightly between them and Kaidan has not released her wrists. "Go ahead. Tell me I made the right choice. Tell me!" Her eyes flash dangerously at him and he releases his hold of her, watching and unable to speak.

"Or tell me I made the wrong choice. Go ahead. Tell me it should have been you. All that heroic, sacrificial, survivor's guilt bullshit just burning inside."

Kaidan can do nothing but watch her.

"Tell me how it's not my fault. How none of this is my fault." She sweeps her arms into the air before her in significance. "How I couldn't have known. Well, screw you Kaidan! I _did_ know!" Her words are seethed painfully through clenched teeth as she pulls a finger to her own chest. "I knew who I was leaving behind. And I made the choice. It's not going to get easier, Kaidan. You're not going to stop feeling this. It never ends. But I knew that when I went into this. I know how to live with blood on my hands." She is trembling fiercely but her eyes are dry.

Kaidan has never seen this fierce, unapologetic Shepard before. He can feel the heat of her from where he stands, feel the sting of her words as she slings them purposefully.

Nothing changes the past. We must live with every decision we make. Or not live at all. Shepard has laid that to rest long ago.

"It does not make her death meaningless. It does not make her any less important because I'm not sitting here crying about it. It does not mean that I don't miss her just as desperately as you do. But what's done is done. It is what it is. And there will be more lives lost if I cannot lay those burdens down and keep moving. I will not lose one more. Not _one_ more." She knows it is a useless promise. She knows the blood will not stop here. But she thinks that Kaidan needs to hear this.

He blinks at her and pulls his mouth tight in a frown.

She is breathing heavily before him and steps into him, her brows furrowed, her eyes heavy on his. He does not move from her. He lets her lay her hands tenderly on his chest. There is something fragile and deep in the breaking of his gaze.

She sighs, and moves a hand to brush her fingers gently along his lips. There is an apology in the touch. This was not how she wanted him either. "You cannot tell me how to _feel_ , Kaidan." Her words are unexpectedly soothing to the growing ache in his chest. There is something hollow and throbbing clawing its way into his heart. His eyes fall to the floor.

"It does not mean that I _don't_ feel."

He lets himself break then and he is reaching for her, the tears sudden and hot on his lids. She opens her arms to him and holds him to her chest, lets him cry into her. His hands fist in the material of her uniform and he feels her heart beat against his chest. It is just as pained. It is just as marked and faltering.

He sobs into her in the silence.

She does not let him go.


	4. Strangled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "His hand is to his mouth, his breath still and hot, and the distant taste of her is still wetting his lips when he finds the courage to stay behind." - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

Sheparding Men

Chapter Four: Strangled

 _"His hand is to his mouth, his breath still and hot, and the distant taste of her is still wetting his lips when he finds the courage to stay behind."_   -  A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life.  Memory.  Passion.  Constancy.  These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

Shepard likes the Normandy best when she is empty and silent and sprinting through space. There is no clear day and night schedule. There is only the minor dimming of the Normandy's deck lights for a six hour span, when only a skeleton crew mans their stations, the others sleeping sound in the crew quarters. Shepard finds herself walking the decks most often at these hours. She makes her way down to the cargo and weapons bay. Her boots thump softly in the silence. The deck is empty but for a single requisitions officer organizing stock. The Mako waits heavily in the dark hold. Shepard can feel the slight thrumming of the Normandy's engines, the almost indiscernible pulse of the Tantalus drive core. There is no gunnery chief on deck.

Shepard swallows and walks back toward the elevator. Her hand runs along the smooth wall of her ship. It is cold and filled with tiny vibrations. Shepard feels the ever-present movement of the Normandy. There is still life within this ship. Something tells her it won't last.

* * *

"You needed to speak with me, Wrex?" Shepard crosses her arms instinctively over her chest, the door to her cabin sliding closed behind the brooding krogan.

Wrex only grunts in response, moving to glance around the captain's cabin. He has never been here before. The walls are grey and uninviting. There is little in the room but a desk and a bed. Shepard stands alone in the middle of the hollow room. It doesn't feel like anyone lives here. It feels like a slow death instead. He looks at Shepard and sees the hard lines forming around her mouth, sees the grind of her jaw, the heavy weariness of her eyes. He thinks she hates it in this cabin.

"Well?" she motions.

Wrex looks to the window and watches the stars speeding past. It's the only thing that feels alive in this place. "Don't rush me, Shepard," he almost barks.

She leans her weight to her other foot.

"About Virmire…" When he says the words, there is something thoughtful about his gruffness then.

Shepard blinks at him and lowers her arms. She does not want to hear about Virmire again. She doesn't want to hear useless platitudes and false comfort. She doesn't want to hear the name _Ashley_ or _Saren_ or _Sovereign_. She only wants the four remaining hours before they dock with the Citadel. She only wants these last few moments of solitude before the storm. She's tired of talking about things that will never change. There is nothing left in the past. There is only Ilos left. She wants nothing more than to be done with it.

"We had words." Wrex stops at that, still not looking at her, because he didn't think past this. Didn't think past entering her cabin. "Harsh words."

Shepard nods. "It got tense there for a second, yeah." She sighs and continues watching him.

His lip curls in remembrance, the slight growl of a thought lighting his tongue. "I wasn't sure if following you was the right choice. I probably should have just shot you and skipped the whole damn mess."

Her eyes narrow as her lips purse in bemused concern. "Well, I'm glad we got past that nasty business. I, for one, am happy not to have left that conversation with a bullet to the skull."

Wrex grumbles and steps closer to Shepard, his presence suddenly demanding attention. She does not step back, only lifts her chin and keeps his stare.

His voice is low and threatening in the space of her cabin. "I never give my enemy time to shoot first. And talking has never gotten me anything but a dead father and a knife in the back." His red eyes watch her steadily and he notices for the first time the marks splattering her neck, unhidden now that her armor is removed. He narrows his eyes at the marks and makes out the vague prints of fingers against her skin. Purple bruises are beginning to yellow along her neck and he realizes belatedly that he is seeing the mark of Saren's grasp, harsh and unapologetic even through the material of her suit, when he held her by the throat back on Virmire. Blood is still blooming beneath her skin and he wonders what that taint feels like. He wonders what other marks she carries.

Shepard breathes in silence before him.

Wrex finds the words without realizing. "I'm not stupid enough to think Saren was interested in the cure to make krogan anything more than canon fodder. But it was a cure. I trusted you, Shepard. I trusted your word when it came to that breeding facility."

Something about his tone tells Shepard to be careful. Her shoulders tense automatically.

His words are a growl. And he doesn't know who he's even angry with anymore. "We were tools to the salarians once. We won't be tools again."

"Wrex…" When she says his name, there is nothing pitying about it, nothing soft or soothing or even sympathetic. It is a warning. It is a harsh whisper, a promise that she is not one he wants to pick a fight with.

But he continues regardless. "We are krogan. We are death and danger and bloodlust. We are more a threat than you realize." His smile is sharp and menacing when it breaks free, his teeth glinting in the dim light of the cabin.

Shepard is too angry to be intimidated. Her nostrils flare, the breath rising heavy and exasperated in her chest.

"So long as you keep treating me like it, I will always consider you an equal, Shepard."

The words die in her throat as she blinks in surprise. She licks her lips and narrows her eyes, the anger thawing into something light and unnamable. She watches him laugh with a darkness that speaks of things she could never imagine, years she could never hope to live, acts she could never fathom witnessing. And she suddenly remembers just how old Wrex is, just how much he's seen, just how insignificant she may be to him. She wonders what it takes from him to say this.

He moves to leave. "So thank you Shepard. For giving krogan the respect of _not_ choosing life over servitude. It means nothing if it's not by our own hands." There is the hint of a smirk as he turns for the exit of her cabin, hitting the console on the side to open the sliding door. He is gone before Shepard can think to even answer.

* * *

Shepard is tired of chasing. She plans to bring this fight to Saren. She plans to look him in the eye when she pulls the trigger.

* * *

Kaidan is already suiting up when Shepard makes her way to the armor lockers. He glances at her and stops at the sight of the strangling marks on her neck. He hadn't seen them underneath her sweatshirt when she had laid into him just a few short hours ago.

"Shepard…"

She stops as she opens her locker and looks at him to find his eyes on her neck. She moves a hand to her tender throat momentarily.

He looks up to catch her gaze. "Why haven't you gotten that checked out?" He steps closer to her on instinct. His hand moves to brush her tangled curls away and he leans in to better see the bruises. She swallows at his sudden proximity, her gaze flicking to the armory behind them.

"It's nothing, Kaidan."

Kaidan's hand is warm on her neck, his touch gentle. There is an ease in his closeness, and comfort to the way he moves to her without reservation. It is reassuring and familiar in ways she has never felt before. She doesn't know why she allows his touch so casually. She wonders if she will miss it if it goes.

"It sure doesn't look like nothing." He pulls back slightly to watch her, though his hand remains on her neck. Something tells him to remove his touch but he finds himself motionless before her. He knows what he risks with this contact. And some part of him is terrified she will call him out for it. But the rest of him is screaming inside not to move from her, not to disconnect, not to run from the feel of her. It makes him bold. He licks his lips in anticipation and chances to stroke the skin of her neck softly with his thumb.

Her eyelids flutter in the slightest of recognition. But her breath is still even when she opens her mouth to speak. "It's a reminder."

He blinks at her, cocking his head in question. The gauntlets of his armor lay forgotten on the table beside him.

"I will never let him get this close again." Her whisper is dark and promising. Her body is tight with fury and remembrance.

Kaidan's lips move as though to speak but there is nothing he can say that seems right in this moment. So he reluctantly pulls his hand from her neck and immediately misses the warmth of her skin. She is leaning into his touch without realizing it.

Kaidan nods and moves to grab the chestplate of her armor. He holds the piece out to her, watches her grasp the armor between them and she does not take her eyes from him.

His eyes are warm like Earth and certain in tones that seem as familiar as memory to her now. "Nor will I."

When he says it, she knows he means it. She knows he means it with everything of himself. She knows he will follow her anywhere. She _knows_.

Her breath is warm between them as her gaze flicks momentarily to his lips. She thinks how easy it is to believe him. Her lips tilt upward in the slightest of smiles.

They remain there for several seconds, breathless and still, before Shepard breaks their locked stare and moves to assemble her armor. There are no more words between them until they reach the airlock, until they are striding down the Citadel docks. Anderson is standing in wait for them just past the end of the Alliance port, anxious to get them to the Council.

Kaidan looks to his commander. "Ready for this, Shepard?"

Her smile is subtle and dark. She remembers the feel of Saren's fingers closing around her throat. "This ends now."

* * *

It is like another strangling. This Council meeting. Words are traded and fleets are promised but there is no air here to breathe. There is no recognition of her warning. She is screaming in a silent room and there is no one there to hear her suffocate. There is no one there to listen.

* * *

"Dammit!" Shepard's curse is lost in the crush of her fist against the console. The wires and lights flicker momentarily and she is oblivious. Her cabin door opens. She moves inside to gather her things. There are C-Sec guards waiting past the airlock to escort her off the Normandy. She has only ten minutes.

"Shepard."

She turns at the sound of her name. Garrus is standing outside her open cabin door.

"What?" she snaps. She is too furious to dole out the anger justly. Anyone in her path is fair game for the scathing.

Garrus hesitates at her tone. "I'm sorry. For…the way the Council is handling this. I'm sorry we couldn't do more."

Shepard whips back to her desk and starts flinging datapads into her pack, then moves to the closet to grab her uniforms. "Yeah, well fuck the Council. I'm done with this bullshit." This helplessness is suffocating.

Garrus grasps his hands before him and leans his weight to one leg, watching her in uncertainty. "We did everything we could."

"That's bullshit, Garrus, and you know it." She tears a uniform off its hangar.

He blinks at her. "No one blames you for-"

"Don't you fucking get it?" She stops her packing to turn sharply to him. Her eyes are heated on his, her free hand curled into a fist. Her nails cut half-moons into her skin and it still doesn't hurt nearly as much as this powerless frustration. Everything in her stance screams fury and desperateness. She can barely breathe in this room. "This is all gone. Everything. You. Me. The Citadel, the Council, fucking _Earth_." Her eyes are wild, voice sharp and breathless. "This whole fucking ship and _everyone_. Saren finds the Conduit and blame is the last thing I'm thinking about." Her words are harsh and cutting and Garrus can only stand and watch her. " _This_ ," she motions with her hand around the room, "this is all gone. _We_ are all dead. And nothing will have mattered then."

Garrus finds his voice is dead in his throat. He cannot take his eyes from her as she digs the heel of her palm into her eye, her teeth grinding. She roars in rage and throws her pack into the wall. Garrus swallows tightly.

When she pulls her hand from her face and looks at him, he wonders when it had all gotten so fucked up. So unbelievably, helplessly, fucked up.

She pulls in deep labored breathes, her voice almost a growl when she speaks again. "Go ahead and tell me I did _everything_ I could, Garrus."

He has never seen her eyes searing and dead all at once. He must move his gaze to the floor before it overtakes him.

"Get out," she grinds through clenched teeth.

Garrus does not look at her when he leaves. He cannot breathe in this room either.

* * *

She is almost to the airlock when she turns the corridor and finds Kaidan waiting for her. He pulls himself from his lean against the wall and turns to her, silent.

Shepard stops. There are soft moments of silence between them as they watch each other. Shepard adjusts the pack over her shoulder.

Kaidan takes a step toward her and there is something sure and deliberate about his movements. She furrows her brows. "What?'

He stops before her, his eyes shifting between hers. There is no pity or sympathy or even the recognition of this loss of power she is drowning in.

She drops her pack to the floor and sighs, and there is an openness to this release that she can only show him. Her eyes are questions she doesn't have the courage to ask. "What, Kaidan?" Her voice is trembling without knowing why. "Come on, say something. Say anything. Say _something_ to make this right. Make this any less hopeless." Her shoulders slump in a way that speak of tired resignation. "Tell me this isn't the end."

Kaidan's eyes are bright in a way Shepard feels light years from. His hands move to cradle her face and she opens her mouth in soft surprise before she feels the warmth of his lips pressing against her own. There is a steady moment of disconnect and she is breathing quietly with him, her mouth moving against his. It is slow to surface and barely-there but she feels some sense of control again, some hint of power rising in her. Kaidan pulls from her, keeping his face close so that his breath is warm when it fans her cheeks.

Her hands move to hold his against her face.

He does not move his gaze from hers. "We're still with you, Shepard." There is nothing forced about his voice, nothing practiced or stiff. His thumb rubs against her cheek absently and everything he feels is caught in this grey corridor, shifting in throbbing beats between them, tangled in his fingers along her skin. She is warm and unmovable and everything that seems worth it in this moment. " _I'm_ still with you."

Her gaze softens then and she closes her eyes, releases a slight breath that burns with a mix of relief and disappointment. Her eyes close as she pulls from his reach and stands apart from him.

His brows furrow in confusion.

Shepard feels that heavy weight of weak stagnation, that forced cage of helplessness throbbing inside. She opens her eyes and nothing has changed. She is still powerless. She is still motionless in a Normandy corridor. She is still standing here waiting for the end to come. She needs to feel the thrum of the Normandy's engines beneath her feet as they speed through the galaxy. She needs to be sprinting through the blank spaces between stars. There is nothing that will stay this aching clench of her heart but the fight. She has never been good with waiting.

Her smile is sad and tinged with need. "I wish that were enough, Kaidan."

He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by the voice of Joker over the speaker system. His message from Anderson lights something hopeful and anxious in Shepard.

Her eyes land on Kaidan and they are bright and eager in a way that pulls a reluctant smile to his face. She is grabbing her bag and rushing toward the airlock before he can even recognize the glint of the old Shepard flaring beneath the surface.

* * *

When Shepard is back aboard the Normandy, waiting for Anderson to release the dock control, she passes several of her crew on her way to Joker. Liara is talking with Pressly before the galaxy map and Shepard's entrance catches his attention. The way he salutes. The way he trails her movements. The way he looks at her as though she is everything worth following. Something heavy lodges in her throat and she salutes in return.

Shepard is suddenly aware of one thought. It isn't over yet.

* * *

She has only one breathless moment of hesitance when she finds Kaidan in the threshold of her cabin. Only one moment of tentative stillness, before they are moving to each other. Before they are moving _with_ each other.

The feel of him is easy and natural and tastes like memory. He is an anchor to a world she thought she could only relive in dreams. He is everything light and familiar and safe. He is home, deep-seated and steadfast in her bones.

* * *

When she chooses her team for Ilos, Kaidan is not on it. She locks eyes with each of her teammates as she stands before the Mako, her Normandy engineers prepping the vehicle for the sharp drop on to the Prothean planet below them.

"Liara."

The asari steps forward and readies her rifle as she moves to stand behind Shepard, unquestioning. Shepard does not intend to land on a Prothean planet and leave the Prothean expert behind.

Kaidan's eyes are eager and expectant in a way that makes Shepard swallow that sharp slice of guilt and look away.

"Tali."

The quarian moves to her position behind Shepard, her shotgun ready and loaded in its holster along her back. She is not surprised by this decision. There is no way of knowing the strength of Saren's geth army laying in wait below them on the planet's surface. Shepard will not risk leaving behind her geth expert.

Kaidan's mouth opens momentarily in confusion, or objection. Shepard is not sure which. But she does not give him a chance to voice it.

"Load up. We move in five." Her back is to Kaidan before she can catch the tight grip of his jaw, the sharp furrow of his brow. She is already turning to Pressly. His salute is welcome and reassuring. "You have the deck, Pressly. Open a link to Admiral Hackett once we establish communication on ground. I don't care what the Council wants. We might not be able to face this threat alone. I want Alliance brass at the table if the shit hits the fan."

Pressly smirks at his commander's choice of words and nods resolutely.

"Should you need a second ground team, Lieutenant Alenko will take point. Let's hope it's not needed." She smiles and shrugs her shoulder in a nonchalant hope after the words. But Pressly catches the Commander with a hand to her shoulder before she can turn.

"It won't be. You're Commander Shepard." It is so simple, and so easy, and so remarkably childlike when he says it. As though it has always been thus. As though it was all that was needed. Just her. Just Commander Shepard. His absolute faith in her is humbling enough to make her turn her gaze before the wetness can dot her eyes.

It was such a stupid idea. That she was all that was needed. But somehow, the thought warms her beyond recognition. She holds her rifle just a bit surer. Pulls her shoulders just a bit tighter. She swallows tightly and nods to her Navigator. His smile is easy and familiar before he is moving for the elevator and to the command deck.

Shepard turns to the Mako and catches sight of Kaidan waiting beside it. Garrus and Wrex are not far off, replacing their weapons to their hold in their armor lockers. Engineers sweep past her and the sudden jolt of the Mako's engine's revving within the cargo hold lights a spark of excitement in her stomach. There is something different about her suddenly. Something unnamable and untouchable. Barely discernable in the heavy air of the cargo hold. There is the sharp and focused thrum of danger in her bones. Something thrilling and anxious about her eyes. She breathes in that sweet fear and subtle desire and the blood is suddenly screaming beneath her skin. Her body is restless. Her hands are needful. She wants to laugh. She wants to laugh and doesn't understand why.

"Ready, Commander!"

The sharp call of an engineer's voice brings her attention back to the Mako and she can see the figures of Liara and Tali strapping into their seats through the windows of the vehicle. The whole cargo hold thrums and shakes. She moves to Kaidan.

He is staunch and unmovable, his face hard when she makes her way to him. And he has only a moment of breathless surprise before her mouth is pressed tightly and fervently to his, before she breathes a quake of mixed dread and craving against his lips. His mouth opens in surprise and she is gone, her fingers lingering lightly against his own palm and she is moving into the Mako before he can release the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

He is moving with the rest of the crew toward the engineering deck, away from the lighting thrusters of the Mako and the shuddering release of the Normandy's cargo bay doors. He is moving without knowing. Watching without seeing. His hand is to his mouth, his breath still and hot, and the distant taste of her is still wetting his lips when he finds the courage to stay behind. When he steels his heart to her absence. When he understands. When he understands what it is to wait.

The warmth of her breath is still with him when she leaves.

* * *

Kaidan finds Garrus in the crew quarters. He is silent as he joins the turian at the table between the bunks. Garrus does not look at him. He holds his hands tightly across the tabletop. Thousands of miles below them, Shepard is trading gunfire with geth and wading through a Prothean graveyard.

There is silence in the cabin as they sit and wait.

The Normandy sleeps in space above the slaughter.

They sit and wait.

* * *

Shepard has a blaring second of fear when the bullet whizzes close enough to her head to send tremors splitting through her eardrums. She claps a hand to her ear in sudden panic, expecting the warm gush of blood. She is already stumbling behind the crumbling Prothean statue. Her breath is caught in her throat. Her fingers are shaking.

She thinks of Kaidan.

* * *

Shepard looks over to find Tali gazing up through the slits of windows along the Mako's hull. The vehicle rumbles around them as they speed through the Prothean corridors of the Ilos compound.

Shepard watches her and wonders what she's looking at. Wonders what her eyes look like when they are searching and lost and distant.

"They're like catacombs." The quarian's voice is soft and hesitant in the rumbling space of the Mako.

Liara glances back momentarily from the controls before her eyes are sure and fixed again along the watered corridor. Shepard's hands tighten on the Mako's gun controls.

"It makes you wonder. About their rituals for the dead, you know? About what they believed in." Tali does not turn her gaze from the windows above. Pods of dead Protheans sweep past the view. The corridor is hollow and full all at once. Shattering and still. Sharp and muted. There is no sound but the steady rumble of the Mako's wheels along the trek.

Shepard watches Tali silently. Something inside her burns to hear more. Shaking in wondrous trepidation at the quarian's words.

Tali licks her lips in hesitant thought, and there is no one who can see it. "Did they perform funerals, or bhaklas, or shiftings? Did they believe in an 'after'? Did they believe in anything past death?"

Shepard is surprised at Liara's silence. But when she looks to the asari, her lips are pursed, her eyes hard and focused. Her breathe quakes in her and Shepard knows that Liara is as answer-less as the rest of them. She knows that Liara is sitting in wonder and fear and reverence and not understanding at all how to handle it. How to speak thought and purpose into some ridiculous guess. Some ridiculous attempt at knowing another being.

Shepard watches Liara's face and wonders if any of them will ever get answers.

Tali sighs in a way that speaks of marvel and pity in one slow, aching breathe. "Do you think they've moved on, without their people's rituals of burial? Do you think they are all still here, waiting? Watching? Hoping?"

Shepard rubs a hand across her face and looks away. She cannot afford to think of those already lost.

"Do you think their souls still touch us here?"

Shepard turns sharply to Tali and the burning words die in her throat. She cannot see the quarian's face. She cannot see the ache in her features. She cannot see the tremble of her lip.

Tali pulls a shaky breath in.

Shepard hears the lilt of tears along her throat. She grips her rifle in her hands. "I think dead is dead. And gone is gone."

Liara pulls a deep breath in beside her.

Tali turns her lighted mask to Shepard. The filter of dim light through the Mako's windows shifts in slants across her glass face.

There is nothing but stone and death and shadow around them. Nothing but echoes and stale air in the winding underground corridors of Ilos.

Shepard finds her hands are no longer shaking. Her body aches with the fresh bruises and burns of the recent firefight. It is a welcome feeling. She feels the blood pumping furiously beneath her skin and nothing has ever felt more comforting. This pain and ache in her bones keeps her grounded, keeps her raging and certain and relentless. This throb in her muscles keeps her alive. This sharp sting of blood and bone and bruise makes her unyielding.

Tali watches her, expectant.

Shepard finds a hard smile creasing along her lips. It is colored with blood and viciousness. "I think peace is for the finished." Shepard feels a wild thump of her heart inside her chest.

No one sees the fierce glint of Tali's eyes behind her mask. No one sees the hint of a smile creep across her lips. There is something exhilarating about being unseen.

* * *

The pull of the Conduit is foreign to her body. She is a thousand pieces and one thought and the sudden light and shifting of space is roaring past her. She wants to run her fingers along the streaming jets of light, wants to feel the stark cold of space against her skin. But then she is jolting through air and the Mako is solid and hard around her once more as they tumble to a forceful halt along a Presidium walkway. The pained groans of Liara and Tali flood her senses. She blinks away the fogginess and moves to stand before the nausea overtakes her and she is hurling into the floor.

* * *

It happens when the dark, looming figure of Sovereign is shadowing the horizon. It happens when her boots are thudding through low gravity along the outside of the Citadel to reach it. It happens when she can hear her breath inside her helmet, when the sound of her rifle is stunted and hollow in space.

She realizes something that she hadn't before.

This is something she can fight. This is something she can win.

It happens when her body is sore and trembling. It happens when she aches with heart and fire.

She can win.

* * *

It is a moment full of sound and silence, of quaking and stillness. The sharp tang of blood and victory lighting her tongue.

And then she is buried beneath rumble.

* * *

She sighs in shaky release as she embraces Anderson, her voice choked in her throat, her body shuddering with pain and relief. His hands wrap tight around her back. She doesn't care who watches.

The broken debris of Sovereign litters the Citadel Tower around them.

She cries into his shoulder.

* * *

"You were remarkably lucky, Commander. A few broken ribs, a sprained wrist and a mild concussion make for the best outcome we could have hoped for."

Shepard smiles warmly at Dr. Chakwas as she sits atop one of the medbay's beds and waits for her to finish changing her bandages. She winces slightly as she straightens, the remnant of damage to said broken ribs still tender and present.

"Easy, Shepard." Kaidan's voice is comforting in the room, his presence as he leans against the wall to her right soothing.

Dr. Chakwas clips the end of the bandages and secures them against Shepard's side. "Alright, Shepard, you're good to go. Everything seems to be healing nicely. Just please, reconsider my suggestion for four more days of shore leave. The rest will do you good, and I'm sure the Council can afford to delay the Normandy's mission for barely another week." Chakwas replaces the excess length of bandage into a drawer by the table and moves to the computer on her nearby desk to input her report, leaning over it as she swipes a few fingers along the console to open the files.

Shepard reaches for her uniform shirt gingerly as it lay next to her on the table. Slowly, she pulls the material over her head to fit it over her sports bra and new bandages. She sighs in relief when the motion is done. "You know as well as I, doctor, that time is of the essence when it comes to Reapers. And the geth are our only lead as of yet. The sooner we track them down, the sooner we prepare for the _real_ threat."

Chakwas snorts and shakes her head. "God forbid you should ever stay in one place, Commander Shepard."

"That's why we love her." Kaidan says it without thinking. The words are ready and light on his tongue.

Chakwas only smirks in bemusement, watching out of her peripheral the sudden embarrassment and awkward rustling of the Lieutenant. She continues typing on her computer in silence as she moves to sit in her chair, her fingers swift and sure along the terminal keyboard.

Shepard chuckles at the sight of Kaidan's discomfort and holds her hand open to him. He watches her for a moment, and then moves to her, grasping her hand and letting her pull him close to her, standing between her legs as she dangles them over the bed's ledge.

She is smiling in a way he hasn't seen in many months. And he is suddenly reminded of the first smile he can recall from her. The way her greenish-brown almond eyes carry the ocean in them. The freeing, unadulterated lilt of her lips as she smiles. The tangle of her dark curls caught in a braid over her shoulder.

She lifts her mouth to his and cradles his face in her hands.

Even with Chakwas several feet from them, Kaidan is unexpectedly at ease, his shoulders releasing tension, his eyes softening and smirk rising as he leans toward her.

Their lips meet in a gentle meld, their breath shared, their faces warm and familiar against each other's. It is only a moment. The kiss is tender and swift and whole-hearted. It is only a moment.

And it is all they have.

* * *

"Elkoss Combine is a joke, Shepard."

"No, Garrus, _you're_ the joke if you think that."

"Their materials are second-rate at best. Their weapons are built for short-lived, over-heated power, not durability. I wouldn't bet on an Elkoss rifle to have lasted for your whole Ilos trip." Garrus shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance with his last words, leaning back in his seat at the mess hall.

Shepard pulls in a sharp, heated breath and motions her hands across the table with her words. "And I suppose Hahne-Kedar is your go-to?" Her food lies cold beside her in the heat of the argument.

Garrus smirks in absolute arrogance. "Of course."

Shepard snorts. " _Of course._ Because C-Sec is too cheap to equip their officers with real firepower."

"Okay, sure I got used to Hahne-Kedar munitions in C-Sec but they use them for a good reason." Garrus raises himself up, a finger in the air to secure his point.

"Yes," Shepard drawls, "I'm sure they're great for pistol-whipping."

Garrus cannot help the laugh that escapes him, even when he is already forming his next argument.

"Look," Shepard continues before he can quip back, Garrus' smile now inciting her own, "Hahne-Kedar is great and all for beginners."

Garrus splutters. " _Beginners?"_

Shepard ignores him. "Their weapons have minimal kick-back and easy targeting. But if I want a legitimate sniper rifle for a reasonable price, I'm going to Elkoss. I can handle the kick-back fine. And the power is great for the cost."

"Well, considering how cheap they are…"

"Hey," Shepard points out, one finger raised in the air, "I'm not exactly on high-roller salary here. Sure, if I had my pick I'd be going with Rosenkov."

Garrus grunts his approval. "Their Volkov model is top-line, no argument."

"Right? And I know you'd be carrying Armax Arsenal if it weren't for your C-Sec pay." Shepard leans back in her chair and gestures in the air as she speaks.

Garrus crosses his arms smugly. "Well, we turians do know how to make guns."

Shepard rolls her eyes. "But we're not talking dream models here. We're talking affordable, attainable weapons. And I'm going to have to go with Elkoss on this one."

"Their weapons have a history of over-heating and jamming!"

"It's all about proper maintenance, Vakarian. The over-heating and jamming is only because some idiots don't know how to properly clean their rifles," she answers with a raised brow.

"Oh ho ho I don't think so Shepard," Garrus leans back and throws an arm over the back of his chair. "They put the mini mass accelerator too close to the barrel. Their manufacturing is shoddy."

"I've never had a problem."

"Yeah, well you've never had a good shot either."

Shepard opens her mouth in mock offense. "Careful, Vakarian. Those are fighting words."

"What's going on over here?" Liara's soothing voice breaks the conversation and the two at the table turn to find Liara, Tali and Wrex making their way over to Sheaprd and Garrus' table with their own trays of food.

Garrus throws one last smirk Shepard's way before turning to the asari to answer. "Just your average Elkoss Combine versus Hahne-Kedar argument. Which I am winning of course."

"In the sense that's he's losing," Shepard supplies, eyes narrowed at the turian.

Wrex grunts and sets his tray down beside Shepard. "Got to go with Elkoss on this one. What good is a shotgun against your enemy if you can't make 'em dead in one shot?"

"Yes!" Shepard pulls a triumphant fist into her side.

"I don't know, Wrex," Tali begins, moving to sit beside Garrus. "A lifetime of wondering with the Migrant Fleet might change your mind on that one. Durability and resilience are my top priorities when looking for a weapon. I usually lean toward Hahne-Kedar for that."

"As you should," Garrus smirks.

Shepard narrows her eyes at Garrus before turning to Liara as the asari takes her place at the table. "What about you Liara? Care to weigh in?"

Liara shrugs her shoulders, a sheepish look crossing her features. "I must admit to not knowing much about weapons. I rely on my biotics far more than my weapon. Truth be told, I don't even know what brand my pistol is." She laughs softly and starts digging into her meal.

"You carry Ariake Technologies," Garrus supplies her in a whisper.

Liara leans toward him conspiratorially. "Thank you," she whispers back.

"Got room for one more?" Kaidan's question is met by all their faces as he takes his seat beside Tali

"Hey, Kaidan, what would you rather carry? Elkoss or Hahne-Kedar?"

Before Kaidan can answer Wrex barks a deep laugh. "Don't bother asking Alenko. He'll side with Shepard every time."

There is the warm bubble of laughter across the table, even as Kaidan reddens in his seat and Shepard shoots a warning glance to Wrex. It is a break in time. This one moment of ease. This single breath of sanity in the race for survival.

Shepard looks around at all the faces at the table with her and remembers how to breathe.

And then the Collector's beam tears through the Normandy's hull.

* * *

The burning wreckage of the Normandy is oddly the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. Bright reds and oranges blooming in dark space. The silent destruction. Every explosion, every winding piece of metal, every heavy shockwave being swallowed by muted darkness.

She floats, disoriented, blinking against the bright taint of igniting fuel cells. Her body is weightless, light, disconnected. She reaches and cannot touch. The blasting debris and hunks of ship careen past her. She watches the Normandy torn to pieces in silence and cold. It is faintly hollow.

Her lungs are suddenly tight in her chest. She hears the heavy pull of breath inside her helmet, and there is the barely-there hint of something else. A whisper. A hiss of oxygen as it leaks through the punctured tube in her suit. She reaches back, grasping desperately for the tear in her suit. Her throat begins to close, retreating carbon dioxide almost scraping along it. She squeezes her eyes shut in blind panic, her hands trembling and frantic at her suit as she twists in her weightless drift through space.

Her chest is heavy and stinging all at once. Her mouth opens in a mix of desperateness and horror. But nothing happens. Nothing comes.

Shepard watches the quiet blossom of fire before her and begins to suffocate.

She wants to see Earth once more.

But she is strangling. And she is scared.

And there is no one there to watch Commander Shepard die.


	5. Gates to the Underworld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There is something dark and haunted and tired about this Normandy. She runs her hand along the cool, smooth metal of the ships' hull. They neither of them know rest." - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

Sheparding Men

Chapter Five: Gates to the Underworld

 _"There is something dark and haunted and tired about this Normandy. She runs her hand along the cool, smooth metal of the ships' hull. They neither of them know rest."_ \- A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life.  Memory.  Passion.  Constancy.  These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

There is the sharp sting of stunted breath. Life halted. A slow and pointless silence. And then there is nothing. There is nothing for a long time. And then longer. There is not even the consciousness of such a nothing. No telling of time as it ticks in ominous beats through the dark.

Nothing.

And then there is light. Blaring and focused and everywhere. And noises that are foreign to her ears. Scents that burn her nostrils in a mix of strangeness and familiarity. There is a voice. There is something bleeding into her consciousness. She thinks it's her name.

"Shepard, can you hear me?"

Well, fuck.

She blinks awake. She _blinks_. And she feels it. Her following moan is a mix of dread and pain and anger.

Death's a bitch, isn't it?

* * *

Shepard makes it through the hacked security drones, through the winding corridors of a Cerberus station, through the short and unfinished interrogation of Jacob Taylor.

She sends a bullet through a synthetic's visual screen, what she imagines stands for a skull. Her flashing and thrumming omni-tool whirls on her arm. She sends an Incinerate toward another drone without a second's thought. Her movements are sure and without hesitation. Her body feels and walks and acts with some distant knowledge of what it means to breathe.

But inside, she thinks she is still floating, weightless and breathless, through space.

She thinks she is still shrinking within her skin, cracked and shriveled within her punctured suit.

She thinks she is still cold and motionless on a Cerberus med-table.

Stagnant and broken.

She thinks she is still dead.

* * *

There is a moment of breathless quiet on their way to the Illusive Man. Everything feels heavy. Everything feels sore. Punctured and used and pointless. She closes her eyes to the stars gleaming past her window. She wants to think of the others. She really does.

But she's just angry. Angry and still and bleeding.

Shepard's eyes flash a red to Miranda that she can feel even in her bones.

Shepard wants to think of the others. She really does.

But she's just angry.

* * *

"Fucking great. So the Alliance and Council have done nothing since I died." She says the words as though it is someone else's death. As though she is apart from it. Disconnected. Another person.

She is not.

The Illusive Man's response and explanation is unimportant. Useless noise.

She doesn't know where she belongs. She doesn't know what this means. She goes along without too much rebellion.

She is only a corpse.

What else can she do but hope she is not the only one?

It's foolish, and it's cruel, but it's all she feels right now. So she must follow it.

* * *

Freedom's Progress is as hollow as she feels when her boots touch down.

* * *

Tali's hug is the first warmth she has felt since her awakening. The proximity of her alerts Shepard's senses in ways she had never recognized before. The slight and barely-there whirling of sensors and conductors in the armor of Tali's suit, the slick and cool metal of her mask against Shepard's jaw, the sharp whiff of mixed oil and anti-septic strange and soothing. She didn't think she'd ever noticed these things before. Her fingers tighten against Tali's back. It is a strange thing to want to be closer and farther all at once, to be within and without, to know and to not. Shepard doesn't think she can handle it a second longer. She pulls away abruptly. And the way Tali's fingers linger on her shoulder tell her she is not hurt. It tells her that there is time.

Time to grow into this life. Time to grow into this death. Time.

So much time that Shepard is almost sick of it.

* * *

Joker's face lights the first flicker of recognition in her body, the first hint of breath and light and purpose. His eyes blink in hesitant wetness, and his staggered walk toward her makes her heart clench in a way that surprises her in its familiarity.

It beats.

It beats at the sight of him.

The feeling is foreign and frightening and welcomed.

* * *

Shepard once thought that the Normandy was speeding her towards her death. Instead, it shared it. There is something dark and haunted and tired about this Normandy. She runs her hand along the cool, smooth metal of the ships' hull.

They neither of them know rest.

* * *

"Doctor Chakwas," Shepard greets hesitantly.

The older woman turns and there is a warmth to her face that Shepard doesn't feel she deserves.

"Leave it to you, Shepard, to one-up death." Her smile is brilliant and longing.

Shepard wants to laugh. But nothing comes. She only looks down, her mouth opening in useless, empty motions. Nothing comes.

The doctor's hand along her shoulder is hesitant. Shepard looks up and catches the other woman's gaze. Chakwas nods solemnly, her eyes soft. "I know," she murmurs, her arms coming up to hold Shepard to her.

But she doesn't. She doesn't _know_.

Shepard swallows tightly.

No one really could.

* * *

Her memories of Kaidan come to her as though from a dream. Her inquiries to the Alliance remain unanswered. She holds onto the image of his face as though it keeps her from losing herself.

* * *

"The Collectors are abducting human colonists with a paralyzing agent we have no knowledge of." Miranda's voice is sure and leveled across the table of the comm.. room. "I suggest we first equip ourselves with a doctor who can attempt to counteract such a weapon."

Shepard rubs her temple and looks at her second in command.

"With all due respect, Miranda," Jacob begins, and Shepard immediately feels the grate of his voice, "we should probably build a team first. Recruiting Mordin Solus may prove to be a difficult task."

Miranda lifts her chin to Jacob's suggestion, her natural elegance and standing unhindered by his mild insubordination. "Not up for the challenge, Officer Taylor?" There is the hint of playfulness in her voice, tampered by a steady dare.

Jacob crosses his arms and smirks. "Are you?"

Shepard groans and moves to stand, making her way to the exit of the room. "We'll hit Omega to look for the doctor. And then we can swing by this Archangel guy and Zaeed Massani for recruitment. That should satisfy both of you."

Miranda eyes the commander in mild concern. "Whatever you choose, Shepard. We're with you."

Shepard walks from the room sighing. "Sure. With me."

* * *

"Of course it's a fucking plague. Because simply finding the doctor would be too easy." Shepard rolls her eyes and raises her hands in sharp and aggravated motions. She paces in frustration and doesn't care that Aria's men have weapons trained on her. She's already died once. Let them try.

Aria smirks and watches the Hero of the Citadel. "Nothing on Omega _ever_ comes easy." There is enjoyment in the way she says it.

Shepard stops. Her lips curl into an appreciative smirk as she watches the asari.

There is something dark and knowing and shared between the two. A millennia old crime boss and a dead savior.

There is enough blood between the two to paint the blistered, broken carcass of Sovereign in gleaming, red victory.

* * *

There is something different about fighting with Miranda and Jacob. The slight quake and tremor of their biotics is strange to Shepard, as they fight through streets of infected gang members on Omega. It is colder, sharper, and there is the slight buzz of power as it shifts past her in Throws and Warps.

It is not like fighting with Kaidan. Her body knows how to move in tune with his powers. Her body knows the feel of his biotics. Her body knows _him_.

She didn't think she'd miss him this much.

* * *

Shepard's first instinct when she hears Mordin Solus speak is to shoot him. She resists the urge. Barely. Miranda chuckles behind her. The salarian blinks in eagerness before her.

His slow smile is somehow enduring. Shepard finds herself sighing and turning to make her way to the Environmental Control facility to dispense the plague cure.

* * *

She checks the files Miranda sent her once more, her fingers swiping swiftly across the computer terminal as she looks for any information on Kaidan's new assignment. There is enough encryption on the files to spark the beginnings of a headache. And she's too wary to ask EDI for help. This whole ship feels wrong.

She looks at the computer screen once more. It's a stupid hope.

* * *

Zaeed Massani is Shepard's next recruit. He is blissfully less chatty than Mordin, less insubordinate than Jacob, and less rigid than Miranda.

Shepard finds herself suiting up next to him for their next visit to Omega, shortly after inviting him aboard and having Kelly Chambers show him to his quarters. Her eyes are drawn to the scars along his face. He looks like she feels.

"There's a story there I ain't ready to tell yet, Shepard."

His gruff voice interrupts her stare and she realizes belatedly that she had stopped moving in favor of watching the grotesque lines of skin and tissue spreading over his cheek. For his part, Zaeed had not stilled in his motions as he cinched the straps to his chestplate. He moves for his rifle next.

Shepard is silent, but she does not move her gaze or apologize for the blatant stare. She pulls in a soft breath and moves to continue her own suiting up. Miranda checks and loads her pistol beside them.

"The worse stories are the ones that leave invisible marks." Shepard's answer is low and unexpected in the space between them.

The sharp click of Zaeed loading his rifle is loud. His eyes are curious on her form as she moves beside him. He sees something dark and brutal to her movements, something hungry in her hands. He looks at her. She seems so young to him suddenly.

"I know why I'm here, Shepard. Credits. A whole goddamned lot of them. Why are you here? This how you get your kicks? Saving the galaxy?"

Shepard locks her sniper rifle into its holster and motions for the group to move to the airlock. "It's not exactly something you walk away from."

"It's not exactly something you _did_ walk away from the way I hear it." His chuckle is gruff and heavy.

Her lungs are suddenly tight with the memory and she thinks of a burning, broken Normandy. She blinks the image away. They continue moving to the airlock and stop behind the first set of doors, waiting for the pressure to stabilize. "Yeah, well, payback's a bitch."

"Guess I just didn't figure you for the Cerberus type." He shrugs noncommittally.

Shepard turns sharp, heated eyes to him. "I'm _not_ Cerberus type." She thinks of Admiral Kahoku's lifeless body, cold on the floor of a Cerberus research facility.

Miranda eyes the two of them silently. EDI's voice floats over them as she announces the release of the door locks and connection to the Omega gate. Zaeed only levels his gaze with Shepard. "You know, in old Earth mythology, Cerberus guarded the gates to the underworld. No living in, and no dead out."

"What's your point, Massani?" she snaps.

"Funny how they opened those gates for you."

"Zaeed," Miranda starts, her tone reprimanding and harsh. But Shepard's raised palm silences Miranda's following remark. Instead, she stands steadfast and waiting behind her commander.

Zaeed smirks, and Shepard watches his face. There is nothing prying about it, nothing challenging or even questioning. They are simply words. Simply empty space. And she recognizes that he doesn't care enough about her answer to warrant an argument. He has seen too much and done too much to worry about causing offense. He knows firsthand that life is too short not to have fun with it.

Shepard sighs and moves to walk from the Normandy's opened doors. The dank, heavy air of Omega is almost welcome. "We, all of us, are already dead men. Some just sooner than others."

* * *

Shepard feels the forceful blow of an incendiary round against her shoulder, her shields flickering momentarily from the onslaught. She grunts in mild surprise and pain and rolls behind the cover of debris outside Archangel's fortified hideout. Eclipse and Blue Suns mercenaries are already rounding on them from their trapped position between her squad and Archangel's sniper rounds. Slowly, she, Zaeed and Miranda press forward. She can hear her own heavy breath in her helmet. Her blood pumps furiously through her limbs, her fingers tight against her rifle's trigger. She shouts orders quickly and urgently through the comm. link in their suits.

A nearby mercenary blows a hole through her cover with his shotgun and the undulating blue of Miranda's responding Warp is bright before her eyes. The mercenary stumbles, grasping at his chest, his weapon faltering in his hands. Shepard swings the strap of her rifle over her shoulder and jumps over the ruined cover of rock. She grabs the man harshly, whipping them around to catch the incoming bullets from other mercenaries in the man's chest. From the slim space between his side and arm her pistol peeks through and lands several bullets in the two nearest enemies. She drops the limp body of her human shield and throws her arm out toward another mercenary, her Incinerate lighting his armor in bright flashes, his screams shrill and terrified before they are cut swiftly silent. She is already running for the next man before his burning body hits the floor.

She rushes a mercenary, knocking him to the ground as she swings her pistol right, lodging three bullets in an Eclipse's chest. A Blue Sun swings at her from behind, blacking her vision for a fraction of a second and she stumbles over the sprawled body of the mercenary beneath her. Instinctually, she activates the Sabotage along her omni-tool and hears the responding click and hiss of the man's overheating weapon behind her. Shepard reaches back, grabbing at his gun arm and rolling forward, feeling the weight of the Blue Sun roll with her, his surprised yelp short and frantic before she lands atop him and reaches her hands around the base of his helmet. His neck snaps with ease. She looks left and sees the mercenary she had rushed earlier trying to push himself from the floor. His eyes are wide as he watches her, his hands fumbling as he pushes uselessly at the hard ground below them. Shepard's mouth pulls into a tight frown, her pistol already trained on him, his quaking "please" barely passing through the air between them before her bullet sails through his helmet. The blood splatters in wide and dark blooms over her armor. She wipes it quickly from her visor and keeps moving. Somewhere not far off she hears Zaeed's bloodthirsty laughter and Miranda's bellowing threats.

She used to live for this.

It is strangely hollow now.

* * *

"Archangel?"

The masked turian stills at her voice.

She pulls the helmet from her suit and raises a brow in his direction. Behind her, Miranda and Zaeed breathe heavily, checking the doors for any indication of following mercenaries.

Slowly, the armored Archangel turns to face her, his own hands moving slowly, trembling slightly, to remove his helmet.

When his eyes meet hers, Shepard finds her heart has stilled in her chest. There is the sharp, breathy bark of her disbelieving laughter, her hand moving to cover her mouth. She is shaking without realizing. "Garrus?"

When she says his name, there is nothing else that matters.

His mouth moves to form words that lodge heavy in his throat, his mandibles flexing in short flickers of movement. He releases a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It's as though the whole world comes rushing back with it.

"Is it really…?"

Her legs move before she can process further, before he can finish his question. Her arms reach for him. Her tears are already hot against her lids. She pulls him to her with a strength that scares even her, expelling a shaky breath against his neck.

Even through the hard and cold of their armor, he swears he hears her heart beat.

Her heart _beats_.

Garrus chokes on a breath and pulls from her to look at her face. To know that it's true. To feel for himself. His hand moves to her face before he can catch himself. His fingers rest against the skin of her cheek in wonder, his eyes locked with hers, and there is a blinding smile spreading across her face that makes the laughter rise in him, shaky and hesitant and scarred with dead hope.

Miranda watches the two without words. But Zaeed grunts in impatience. "You know this bloke?"

Garrus comes back to himself in time to pull his touch from Shepard's face, his gaze quickly on the floor, his body moving from hers. He clears his throat and looks back up at Shepard.

But her smile is brilliant and unapologetic and for the first time since she awoke she feels the flicker of something needful in her chest. She punches the turian playfully in the arm, her other hand moving to wipe the unexpected tears. Her face is dry once more.

"Yeah," she expels in a relieved sigh. She does not take her eyes from Garrus. "Yeah, I know this smug turian bastard."

Garrus smiles for the first time he can remember in two years.

* * *

Shepard is washing the blue blood from her hands in her cabin's bathroom. On the other side of the ship, Garrus lays unconscious on a bed in the medical bay with Doctor Chakwas working furiously to stabilize him.

She stops rubbing her hands under the water to look up into her mirror. There is the light smear of blue under her eye, where she had wiped her cheek, Garrus' blood still fresh on her hands after the assault. She braces her palms against the sink and does not turn her gaze from the mirror.

In some sick, disconnected part of her mind she thinks of Garrus' facial markings, the blue lining his face, and wonders for the first time what it means. She wipes a wet hand roughly across her cheek.

The blood has already dried.

She lets the water run.

* * *

It is her first trip back to the Citadel. She is now wary of everything she had known in her first life. But she cannot keep herself from Anderson any longer.

She sighs, leaning against the rail and looking out over the Presidium with him. She asks about her former crew without really expecting any answers. Anderson frowns and watches her. There is the slight gleam of red hinting at her once greenish-brown eyes. He can't decide whether he still recognizes her or not.

Something in his gaze tells her he wants to say more. Tells her that this life, and this lie, and this distance, is hard for him too.

She pulls from the rail, rests a hand against his arm, and they linger in silence momentarily before she turns to leave. She picks up Kasumi Goto before boarding the Normandy once more.

* * *

For all its changes from Alliance to private sector, Shepard finds the Normandy much improved by the presence of the on-board bar.

* * *

"Any progress Mordin?" Shepard lifts herself up to sit atop the table across from the salarian scientist, watching in only mild interest as his fingers move swiftly over the computer terminal's keyboard.

"Much. Very exciting. Cybernetics actually beginning to fuse with human tissue. Nervous system operating on higher electrical functions. Human synapses extraordinary, multi-layered." He pulls in a deep, satisfied breath. "Only minutely different from salarian ochlicals on a base chemical level. Hmm. Interesting."

It takes Shepard a minute to realize he is talking about his self-appointed project researching her newly Cerberus-enhanced biology. When he first asked her permission to study her tests and blood work she had allowed him in the hopes that he could help her better understand this new body, this new life that she had awoken in. She hates thinking she walks around with some kind of Cerberus tracker or inhibitor without her knowledge. And in some way, she still doesn't believe this is even possible. That this is actually some disturbing illusion of hell, some sick joke from a bored higher being, too drunk on its own power to just let her _rest_. She doesn't really believe she's actually _alive_.

And even though she flies on a Cerberus ship and she commands a Cerberus team and she operates on information from a Cerberus AI, she's doesn't actually trust that things are right between them. That this freedom she's experiencing is not without price. At least Mordin is as outside a source as she can trust to perform such tests and answer such questions. But the longer she walks in this body, the longer she wakes mornings hoping it's the last, the longer she sees the taunting, growing red in her reflection, the more she realizes she doesn't really want to know.

Shepard rubs a hand through her dark tangled hair and looks away, sighing. "I meant the Collectors' paralyzing weapon."

Mordin does not even lift his head form the computer screen. "Ah. My mistake. Should be more specific, Commander." He glances at her sitting across from him. "Still running tests. Not to worry Shepard. Focused. On the job. Will alert you to any progress when achieved."

She figures that's the best answer she can hope for and plops down from the table, moving to leave the tech lab. "Thanks, Mordin." The wave of her hand is half-hearted and regretful.

* * *

"Just a word of advice, Commander. Docking with a prison ship named Purgatory should probably tell you something about your batch of candidates for Team Shepard."

Crossing her arms and raising a brow to Joker, Shepard stands silent in the cockpit, watching him take them in toward the Purgatory.

EDI's holographic form lights up beside his console. "There is no guarantee of Jack's cooperation, even with the offer of freedom. I recommend caution, Shepard."

"Noted, EDI. Just dock us with the ship." Shepard turns from the cockpit and heads to the armory to assemble her crew.

* * *

"Am I the only one wondering how this 'Jack' survived cryo – you know, _freezing_ – missing half her wardrobe?" Kasumi's question is sounded between the hail of bullets from Warden Kuril's prison guards.

Shepard gets out a few rounds and then ducks back behind the cover of the wall. Beside her, Jacob sends out a Pull, biotically yanking two guards from their cover and into the trail of Shepard's sniper. He laughs. "Don't think it quite works that way, Goto."

Kasumi blinks out of vision with a Tactical Cloak and the playful lilt of her voice is the only clue to her presence. "Just an observation."

* * *

The alarms are blaring in Shepard's ears. The fires blazing through the prison corridors are hot even through her armor. Debris crunches beneath her boots and everything seems louder, brighter, sharper. There is something about being caught in this burning, broken death ship that excites Shepard.

Dead guards and prisoners litter the floor. There is only the Heavy Mech remaining on the deck. She advances on the armored unit, gauging the waning strength of its shields, her pistol hot and angry in her hands. Round after round lodges in the mech, its shields burning beneath the intensity of her Incinerates. She keeps advancing. Keeps firing. Keeps throwing powers through her omni-tool. She is oblivious to cover. She is oblivious to the dying mech's loading of its rocket. The bright, shuddering flame dancing across the armored metal keeps her in its thrall.

The slow destruction is beautiful. She wishes for it with a passion that haunts her.

"Shepard!"

Jacob's warning shout is half a second before the Heavy Mech launches a rocket, before it collapses in on itself and sharp, scorching metal blows out from it in a gleaming explosion.

She feels the rocket sear past her, the instant melting of her armored shoulder sharp and sudden. She doesn't even have time to register the pain. The fuel cells behind her detonate, throwing her forcefully into a heavy shield conductor. Her back slams against the metal at a painful angle and she gasps at the sensation, her breath knocked from her instantly. Her ears blow out momentarily as she falls to the ground. Everything around her is hot and throbbing and heavy.

"Shepard!"

She hears her name again and blinks blearily through the warm haze of the prison corridor. The alarm sirens begin to bleed into her mind and she moves to push herself from the ground.

Kasumi's hand is at her elbow, lifting her from the floor, Shepard's pistol in her other hand. "You certainly have the theatrics down, Shep." She steadies the commander and hands her back her weapon. "You okay?"

Shepard can hear the concern in the thief's voice and nods mutely, groaning at the throb in her skull. Her fingers grip the handle of her pistol comfortingly as she tries to straighten herself, wincing at the agonizing ache in her lower back. She laughs. There is something satisfying about such pain. She can taste the sharp tang of blood in her mouth.

"What the hell, Shepard?" Jacob's voice is grating and right beside her. "Why'd you rush that mech? You could have gotten yourself killed." His eyes are hard and frantic on hers, breathing heavily in the wake of the recent firefight.

Shepard's laugh is disregarding and blood-tinged. "Sorry I almost lost your precious science project."

Jacob furrows his brows at her. "That's not what I meant." He watches her steady herself for a second before she pulls in a deep breath and motions for them to keep moving. "Shepard, wait."

"You're not the one giving orders here, Taylor." Something in her voice is distant and low. She does not stop moving.

"You're hurt. You're being reckless and impulsive, commander. With all due respect –" He doesn't get the chance to finish.

Shepard turns on him, and the anger is fresh and familiar and welcomed. "With _no_ due respect Officer," she snaps, her finger jutting harshly into his chest, "if I hear another word from you we'll really get to see how reckless and impulsive I can be." Her fingers are tight along her pistol, her eyes heated and challenging on his.

There is static silence between them for several seconds, only the wailing alarms sounding around them. Kasumi watches them hesitantly. Flames dance around them, whipping at the backs of Jacob's legs, taunting him with their threat.

"Understood, Commander." Jacob clamps his jaw tight and steps aside to let Shepard lead them into the nearby opening to the next deck.

She does not give him the benefit of a second glance.

* * *

"You think this Jack character is stable enough not to blow a hole through the ship? I just calibrated the Normandy's guns."

Shepard laughs softly at Garrus, wincing slightly at the ache in her ribs from the action. She sits along the back of a couch in the Port Observation Room, her back resting against the glass of the window, her boots on the seat of the couch. Garrus sits similarly beside her. She pulls the glass of scotch to her lips and takes a slow sip. "I think she better be worth the trouble it took to get her."

Garrus takes a drink from his own glass and eyes Shepard next to him. She's dressed in a black tank-top over her Cerberus uniform pants. Her right shoulder is wrapped in bandages and he can see the inflamed red of her skin running the length of her arm. Her cheek is swollen, and he doesn't need to see the expanse of dark bruises along her back to recognize the stiff pain in her motions. "Yeah, you look like shit."

She narrows her eyes at him and leans her elbows over her knees. "No worse than you I'm sure," she smirks as she motions to the healing scars on his face.

His laugh is throaty and soothing. "I think it gives me mystique. Don't you agree?"

"There are better ways than a rocket to the face."

"Yeah, but it's also a good ice breaker. Great conversation piece."

They chuckle together easily, gingerly sipping from their respective drinks and Shepard takes a moment to turn her gaze through the window at her back. "Have you heard from…any of them?"

Garrus doesn't need to ask to know who she means. "I shared a couple vid-mails with Tali before I went dark. Saw Wrex just before he left for Tuchanka. Couldn't get a hold of Liara for the first couple months after you…died." He takes a slow sip from his drink, his mandibles flexing with the motion as he watches her out of the corner of his eye. She makes no indication that the word upsets her. "Turns out she was fetching your body and playing tag with the Shadow Broker."

Shepard swirls the scotch around her glass and watches the liquid shift color in the dim light of the room. "And Kaidan?" It's not even hopeful anymore.

"I'm sorry, Shepard." When he says it she knows he means it, hears the regret in his voice. "Can't seem to get past the blocks the Alliance put up on his message account."

"Me either."

He sighs. "I know you two were intimate."

She releases a short laugh. "The operative word there being 'were'." The next sip she takes is longer and warm in her throat. The window is cold against her back. "Turns out death isn't quite the relationship builder you'd expect." Her tone would be scathing if it wasn't so lost, so indifferent.

"No one expected this, Shepard. Your dying, your coming back. Cerberus."

She looks at him on that last one but there is nothing accusatory in his gaze.

"But I can't tell you how good it is to see you again."

She turns back to looking at her glass, her mouth opening and then closing when she realizes the stupidity of her coming words. It's a foolish dream. A useless hope. Something inside her yearns for the end.

Garrus cocks his head at her. "What is it?"

She swallows thickly and licks her lips. "I thought…" She sighs and rubs a hand down her face, turning to watch him as she says it. "I thought I was done."

Garrus watches her silently.

"Done. Finished. I thought…I thought I could rest." She hates the longing in her voice, hates the way the words slide along her tongue in bitterness. "I mean, sure, I was scared in the moment of it."

The memory is stark and vibrant and leaves her shaking. "Terrified. Just…I've never been so scared in my life. And alone." Her eyes close because she cannot look at him any longer. Her fingers grip her glass tightly. "But I think in some…some small part of my mind I knew I'd have peace."

Garrus finds he cannot speak. Cannot move. And he doesn't think there's anything in the world now that can make any of this better, make any of this into some kind of sense. Because it shouldn't have been her. It should never have been her. None of this makes any sense if it must be her who pays the price.

Some days Garrus hates this aching universe.

He hears her take a slow, deep breath beside him and watches her rest her head back against the glass. Behind her, the stars continue to glow, and space keeps rushing past. Her voice is soft and hollow. "Huh. 'Finished'. What a joke."

She should have known. It never ends.


	6. Reaching With Dead Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They embrace tightly, each wishing for more, each loving something different, each hurt and needy and looking with eyes that have not left the past." - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

Sheparding Men

Chapter Six: Reaching With Dead Hands

 _"They embrace tightly, each wishing for more, each loving something different, each hurt and needy and looking with eyes that have not left the past."_   -  A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life.  Memory.  Passion.  Constancy.  These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

Fighting husks is familiar and comforting in an odd, depressing way that Shepard tries not to think too long about. Her boot comes down heavy on the head of a sprawled husk, smashing its skull quickly, blue matter and synthetic pieces exploding out and covering the dirt floor. She looks up and sees another mindless husk ambling toward her. Her pistol is raised and ready, firing three bullets into its head and torso, ripping it apart as it flails to the floor. Beside her, Jack throws a Shockwave and Shepard watches in mild fascination and humor as the empty, corrupted bodies are flown across the room. Mordin lets off round after round beside her. She tries to find that spark, that thrill and tremor she used to feel in the midst of firefights. She honestly tries. But she's already died once. And she has nothing left to fear losing. It is an empty battle. It is just wasted time. She kills and she fights and she bellows angry pointless threats because it's a remnant of the life she used to lead. And she doesn't know how to get it back. So she reloads her rifle and moves further into the abandoned mine. At least killing husks kills time.

* * *

"What would a krogan warlord be doing here?" Miranda loads her pistol and looks around the ship graveyard turned mercenary outpost that was Korlus.

"Maybe he asked the Blue Suns to tea." Jack drawls, rolling her shoulders. She takes a quick sweeping glance of their surroundings. When she catches Miranda's unimpressed look she smirks. "Real nice like."

Miranda rolls her eyes. "Let's just move."

Shepard sighs beside them and steadies her own sniper rifle in her hand. She hears the indistinct voice over the speaker and tries to focus on the words, smells the spent mortar shells and smoke. She shifts her eyes through the haze covering the planet and takes a step. "Eyes forward. Miranda has the flank."

Jack sweeps an arm out and sends a salty sweet smile Miranda's way. "After you, Icecrotch."

Miranda only turns to watch the path as they move. Her voice is unaffected and lilts gracefully. "You always will be, Jack."

Jack opens her mouth to retort but the quick flash of Shepard's humorless eyes makes her bite her tongue. She growls and clenches her fists. "Let's just get this fucker quickly so I can stop looking at your lopsided ass."

Miranda almost wants to laugh. Almost.

* * *

There is something intriguing and yet heart-wrenching about the discarded tank-bred krogan they meet along the destroyed corridor toward the Blue Suns lab. Shepard has an unexplainable urge to touch it, to reach out a hand and know for herself that he exists. He lives. He feels. Maybe without purpose, and maybe without reason or explanation. But he lives. Shepard wants to know for herself that it's true. That it's possible. His armor is cold and blood-slicked. The krogan eyes her suspiciously. She pulls her fingers back quickly, unsure, breathing heavy. They hold gazes for long moments and Shepard wonders if he knows. She wonders if he senses the death on her too.

* * *

The image of Okeer falling dead to the floor is hazy and looping on the screen before them. His words echo in the space of the lab.

Jack sighs and holsters her shotgun. "Well, that was some epic bullshit."

Shepard pinches the bridge if her nose and lets out an exasperated breath. "Great. Just fucking great. Now I have to play babysitter."

Jack smiles mischievously as she watches Grunt asleep in his tank, unaware, unaffected. "He sure looks like he can do a whole lot of damage." Her eyes brighten and she turns to Shepard, clapping her hands before her. "Please, can we keep him, Ma?" she mocks.

Miranda raises a brow at the biotic and Jack only sneers at her, dropping her arms to watch Shepard.

Shepard takes a step toward the tank. She pulls an armored glove from her hand and places her bare palm against the glass. It is smooth and cool to the touch, and she can feel the liquid swirling beneath her fingertips. It doesn't feel like any way to live. Shepard frowns and pulls her hand from the tank, replacing her glove. "Let's take him in. If he isn't rabid or completely useless then that's one more on our side."

Miranda is unusually soft beside her. "And if he turns on you?"

Shepard eyes the other woman levelly. "Then he can join those ancestors Okeer was raving about."

Jack cracks her knuckles eagerly.

Shepard puts a hand to her helmet and activates her comm. link, radioing Joker. She watches as Miranda gazes at the screen where Okeer's slow and gas-filled death is on repeat. Her expression is lost and hardened in a way Shepard has never seen before. Something she cannot recognize makes her breathe Miranda's name in quiet concern.

Miranda turns at her name, and there is the slightest hint of a smile, but it tells of resignation and emptiness. "You know, even with Okeer's pretty words and fancy science, this 'ignoring the genophage' still isn't a victory. Not really."

Shepard cocks her head in question and Jack rolls her eyes, moving to rummage around the lab instead of listening to the Cerberus Operative.

Miranda returns her gaze to the still krogan on the other side of the shimmering glass. "Because it's still there. The genophage. It's still not a choice."

Shepard shifts uncomfortably as her second in command speaks. It's a window into the stoic woman that she has never seen before, that she feels accidentally invited through. She doesn't think Miranda meant for her commander to see her like this. Soft and defeated and gaze turned from her. Shepard stays quiet.

Miranda sighs. "This 'grunt' lives with the choice of reproduction already taken from him. He can never be free if he cannot make his own conscious decision to create new generations. He is still burdened, restricted, still a slave to something out of his control."

Shepard is surprised to hear Jack scoff from her position across the room as she blows the lock to a desk and opens it. She didn't think the biotic had been listening. "So the fucker can't pop out any mini-fuckers. Boo fucking hoo. Any animal can breed. Doesn't make him any less free. I should know." Jack's face is hard and turned toward the contents of the desk. There is something tangled in her throat that sounds dangerously close to fear, in the most intimate ways Shepard knows.

Miranda looks to Jack and Shepard. "It's not about biological imperatives or self-replication or preservation instinct." Miranda's voice is steady and full in the empty room. Her words flow as though she has said them many times before. Many times before on deaf ears. There is loss in her voice. "It's about the _choice_ to procreate, to carry on the generations, to, in essence, attain immortality. Our offspring are the bearers of our legacies. Our children's children may remember us. If we so choose. And 'choice' is the very action that defines freedom."

Miranda turns back to the image of Grunt behind the tank, breathing, sleeping, maybe even dreaming. Her eyes tell Shepard it is a hardship she knows all too well. Her touch against the glass is full of apology and hurt and anger. Her throat is tight with words Shepard thinks she may never hear.

Miranda swallows and sighs, eyes on the tank. "There is no freedom in this. There is no victory. There is only spite." Her hand falls from the glass of the tank and she is turning to Shepard, once more ready, once more stoic, once more silent.

Shepard has no words.

* * *

There is power in this choice. Shepard watches the tank glass slide open and liquid spill forth along the Normandy's cargo hold. Grunt coughs and gags as he falls to his knees before her.

She thinks maybe she shouldn't revel in it like she does. But there is something satisfying and sure about holding a life in her hands. Her own has been lost to her long ago.

* * *

When Shepard ends the communication link to the Illusive Man, she makes her way to the galaxy map immediately. Garrus stands talking with Kelly but eyes Shepard with concern. Her command of "Horizon" is sharp and purposeful on the deck. She rubs a hand through her hair and moves to the cockpit, sitting beside Joker silently as he starts up the Normandy's engines. Her skin blazes in remembrance of Kaidan. But there is a slow burning resentment blooming in her heart.

* * *

"Haha! Now this is fun!" Grunt bellows in the wake of his shotgun. The Collector in front of him is blasted back from the round, a jagged hole blowing through his torso. Grunt does not give the Collector a second glance. He is already rounding on the next enemy. Grunt roars and charges a line of three Collectors coming around the next building. He rams into them, knocking them forcefully to the floor below and he lets off a shotgun round in each of their heads before they have time to scramble to their feet.

"Grunt!" Garrus' nearby voice makes the krogan lift his gaze and catch sight of the Husk Scion ambling around the corner of the stairs ahead.

"Shit!" Grunt's shields light up instantly with the flare of his Fortification and he is diving into a nearby open building just as the Scion's arm alights with its Shockwave blast. Grunt hears a sharp gunshot and the Scion's howl as he tumbles behind cover. The responding Shockwave blast he had been expecting to feel pounding into the wall of his cover instead explodes several feet from him. There is another sharp gunshot sounding throughout Garrus' assault rifle fire and Grunt rolls to his feet to look through the building's window at Shepard lying atop the adjacent building's roof, sniper trained on the ambling mutated husk. He looks back to find the scion's head exploding beneath a third and final sniper round, its lumbering, hulky form dropping to the floor below as other husks swarm past it toward his position.

He grins and grabs the ledge of the window to push himself up and through the open space, his heavy boots thumping the dirt at his feet. Garrus rounds the corner of the building he just emerged from and there is a mischievous smirk behind his visor. "You good, soldier?" The turian immediately dispatches three of the incoming husks and Shepard's sniper shots reverberate around the surrounding buildings, dropping husk bodies with a single bullet a piece.

Grunt barks a scoffing laugh and lets a round off at the last nearing husk, blowing its legs clean away. The mutilated top of the husk falls to the ground, arms still flailing and mouth howling. Grunt finishes him with a heel to the face and the husk falls still. "I'm _great_." His teeth glint in the sun as his grin stretches the planes of his face.

Garrus glances quickly to Shepard and nods. She pulls her sniper back and moves back across the roof, out of view. Grunt watches the end of the line of buildings for any more incoming Collectors or husks, his shotgun hot and ready in his hands, and hears the light thump of Shepard landing on the stairs across the way. She moves around the corner to the ramp connecting their buildings and motions two fingers for them to continue forward. Garrus looks back to Grunt, grabbing another heat sink from his belt and smiling. There is a fire and challenge to the turian's eyes. "You're playing with the big boys now."

* * *

Shepard does not make it to the cover of crates before her shields fail. A collector beam rips through her side and she twists painfully with the force of the shot, tumbling behind the crates she had been running to. She slams into them, grasping at crates with one hand to steady herself, the fingers of the other gripping her Collector Particle Beam tightly. She hears Garrus' call of her name vaguely through the searing pain and the explosions of Grunt's shotgun, still rounding on the nearby hovering Praetorian she had sprinted from. Shepard slumps back against the crate, breathing heavily and calling out a quick assurance of her life through the comm. link in her helmet. There is the sharp screeching of the Praetorian's beam and inhuman wails from dying husks. She smells the burned flesh peeking through the hole in her armor immediately, and there is bile momentarily rising in her throat. She squeezes her eyes shut and swallows, pushing down deep gulps of pain as she activates the medi-gel along her omni-tool . It floods her system and dulls the searing, but she knows she will not last through another shot if they do not take the hulking Praetorian out soon. She knows she has only moments.

Shepard grinds her teeth and peeks cleanly over the top of the crates. Garrus' assault rifle riddles the last Collector body with bullets and blows the head off one of the husks rushing him. Grunt's shotgun rounds have chipped off more of the Praetorian's barrier, but it attempts to recharge them as soon as Grunt tumbles away from the incoming slam of the massive weapon's metal claws into the earth. The krogan is on his feet instantly, throwing a fist into the last husk attempting to charge him. They are both exhausted and slowing, their movements jagged, their strength waning. Shepard aims her Particle Beam at the Praetorian and fires. The responding explosion of husk flesh and metal and corrupted weaponry is bright and deafening, throwing the three squadmates back forcefully. The Collector ship is already pulling away from the colony. The ground vibrates thunderously around them as they attempt to stand, their weapons still tight and reassuring in their grips, their gazes turned to the retreating ship with a mix of relief and defiance and disappointment. Shepard can hear her own heaving breathes loud in her ears.

When the air is clear and still once more, Shepard falls back against the crate at her back and holds a hand to her wound. There is the sharp hiss of air through her teeth and the shadows of Garrus and Grunt as they lean over her hunched form. Garrus reaches for her and she waves him off dismissively.

She pulls in a deep breath and looks between the two. "How many did we save?"

Grunt grumbles beside Garrus and the turian frowns. "Not enough."

Shepard slams a fist back into the crates behind her and grinds her teeth. "It never is."

The sun is blaring and hot on their backs.

* * *

"Kaidan." Even his name along her tongue is foreign to her. She didn't think she'd feel like this. She didn't think she'd feel so lost and abandoned and resentful. She didn't think two years could change so much.

His eyes are disbelieving on hers. Cautious. Wary. Suspicious in a way they've never been on her. But there is something stronger in him that spurs him to touch her. He reaches out a hand and she is moving to him instinctually. They embrace tightly, each wishing for more, each loving something different, each hurt and needy and looking with eyes that have not left the past. His breath is in her hair, the helmet of her suit lying forgotten on the floor and she is almost thankful for the space between them that comes from her armor. She does not think she can keep from breaking if his touch is any closer.

"I watched you die." His voice breaks. He says it in a way that makes her feel guilty for it.

She must pull from him suddenly. Her eyes graze the floor, and then her companions, and then the Collector bodies littering the space around them. She wants to look anywhere but at him. And she cannot reconcile this guilt with this anger. She doesn't know how to answer him in any way he would understand.

Because she has no words. She has no words for that kind of suffocation, for that kind of silent terror, that kind of helplessness. She cannot tell him what it means to die. What it is to wait for it, and fear it, and then hope for it. She cannot tell him what shadows have burrowed inside of her because of it. She cannot tell him how she cried in the end.

And he cannot tell her what it means to watch. He had been sailing through space, his escape pod burning through the planet Alchera's atmosphere. He did not have a clear view through the window, flames burning quickly and fervently along the outside of the pod as they fell planet-side. But he could glimpse. He could see the slow destruction of the Normandy in stunted glances and broken bits, make out the bright flashes of explosion, the horrid wrenching of metal and debris. He wants to be brave but everything in him is telling him that nothing survives that. Everything in him is telling him that Commander Shepard died alone and unseen. Everything in him is telling him to grieve.

And then she is standing before him.

There has been too much done and not enough said in two years span to reconcile them. Something in each of them says it quietly, fearfully, aching with love lost that they are each too stubborn to let go.

Shepard wonders if she even knows him anymore. She wonders if she even knows herself.

Kaidan swallows and looks from her. "Garrus." It is a welcome distraction.

Garrus moves forward and clasps arms with Kaidan, and it is the first sure and relieving notion to Kaidan. There is still something shaky about his moments with Shepard. "Good to know you're well."

Kaidan smiles in a way that tells the turian he really isn't, releasing his arm. "And you. Been a long time."

"Two years." Shepard's soft words break the moment between the two comrades.

Grunt shifts uncomfortably, watching his commander, and Kaidan looks back to Shepard before him.

His voice scrapes along his throat in a mix of dread and hope. "What happened?"

Shepard wants to laugh. "I was dead, Kaidan."

He opens his mouth, then shuts it, then "I know but… but how…"

"Cerberus got hold of my corpse," she says the word 'corpse' as though it is easy, as though it is someone else. She wonders if it really is. She wonders if she is still the same woman who loved this same man.

Kaidan's brow furrows at the casualness of her words.

She continues. Because empty words are better than silence at this point. "They spent two years piecing me back together. Making me the way I was." Her eyes shift between his. "At least in body." There is something defeated in her voice.

Kaidan takes an unconscious step back. She follows.

"Cerberus?" His voice is low. His body is just out of reach. "You're working for Cerberus?"

Something in his voice makes Shepard harden. "I'm not _working_ for them, Kaidan. They brought me back and now… now things are…complicated."

"But Cerberus? Shepard, I don't have to remind you what they've done in the past."

Shepard bristles at his words. It is far too easy to feel this anger. "You know what? You're right. Next time I die, I'll have a tag on my corpse with only Kaidan-certified resurrection services listed. That way, there'll be no confusion."

Garrus hides a chuckle behind a talon. Grunt grins at Kaidan unashamedly. Shepard throws a look both their ways.

Kaidan swallows thickly and hangs his head slightly. "I didn't…that's not what I…"

Shepard pulls a deep breath through her flared nostrils and watches him.

Kaidan straightens his back. He locks eyes with her steadily. "But why stay with them?"

Shepard softens slightly. She knows, really, somewhere she knows that Kaidan isn't trying to attack her. But it's hard to find the same conviction she used to live by. It's hard to reach for the love she once had. It's hard to remember the person she used to be. She doesn't carry the same connections she used to. Nothing has the same worth. She looks to Kaidan and hates that she thinks like this. Hates that some things may never be the same. "I don't…I don't really have anything else."

Kaidan looks at her confused, mouth ready and open but she raises a hand to stop him, hoping she can find the words that eluded her for so long. "I awoke and I had nothing. I had _nothing_ , Kaidan."

The words make his heart clench uncontrollably.

Shepard moves to grasp his wrist awkwardly. "There was nothing left of who I used to be. Not you, not those I cared about, not anything worth recognizing. I had nothing."

Garrus is still and silent beside her, watching her with unreadable eyes. Grunt crosses his arms and watches the two humans.

Shepard sighs. "And then the Illusive Man tells me about missing colonists."

Kaidan's eyes shift imperceptibly, acknowledging.

"And I didn't know what else to do but to follow. The 'mission' was all that was left to me, after everything. After death. After life again. All that I awoke to was 'You're not finished yet. Nothing you did solved anything.'" She waved her hand through the air dismissively, her breath catching on the last words. "It all seemed so repetitive and stupid and…just…pointless. Just pointless."

Kaidan could not take his eyes from her, could not move his hand from her hold.

She sighs and looks to their joined hands, something sharp and constricted caught in her throat. "And I don't know anything else. I don't know how else to be when everything else is closed off to me, but to be this. This 'soldier'. This 'symbol'. I only know how to hold a gun and how to mouth off and how to send good people to their deaths." She stops suddenly, and she hadn't thought of Ashley since she woke but she must push the thought from her mind before the wetness dots her eyes, before it becomes more than she can bear. "So this is why I stayed. This is what I am now."

Kaidan shakes his head, pulls his hand from hers. He wants to believe that it isn't so easy. It isn't so lost. He wants to believe that more could have been done. He wants to believe that there's an easy fix lying around in wait for them. "But the Alliance-"

"The Alliance abandoned me the moment they found out it was Cerberus who brought me back! Who do you think has been blocking all my attempts at reaching you?" Shepard's voice is loud and forcefully, her step back suddenly protective, cautious. Her hands bunch into fists at her side. It is like waking all over again. It is like waking _alone_ all over again.

Kaidan's features harden. "They have a right to be cautious, Shepard! This is Cerberus we're talking about. Who knows how they altered you?" He is suddenly struck by the thought and his eyes widen, his stance wary, his body tense. "Who knows how they-"

Her lips are on his before he can finish his sentence. There is something forceful and desperate in her touch, something selfish that even she cannot explain. She wants him to know. She wants him to _know_.

She can't look at him anymore and not wish for it, not hate every moment that passes, not reach desperately and recklessly for the life she once knew.

But he does not feel the same to her. And he does not taste the same. And she does not reach for him with the same earnestness. Her breath catches in her throat and she sobs against his lips.

Kaidan pushes her from him with an ache and reluctance they can both feel. They breathe heavily together, looking at each other through eyes neither of them can recognize.

"I looked for you," she breathes heatedly, suddenly, her words hot against his cheeks and he must close his eyes or he will break.

Kaidan swallows down that sharp slice of shame and tightens his grip in her hair. "I can't." He regrets it immediately.

Shepard blinks and licks her lips, her touch grazing his chest one last moment before she is gone and steady and unapologetic. She moves from his grasp quickly and he opens his eyes to find her turned from him. "Tell your Alliance I'm still searching for colonists. Tell your Alliance I'm still in this fight."

Kaidan wants to reach for her, wants to pull her to him and forget the last two years. But time will not slow for anyone. And hearts will not mend so easy. And Kaidan thinks he might have lost her for good this time.

Shepard pulls a deep breath in and moves to the path away from Kaidan. "Tell them I'm not dead yet." She does not look back.

* * *

Shepard's roar of fury echoes through the Normandy's empty lounge as she throws a glass against the wall, the liquid splashing across the chairs and the glass shattering.

EDI cautiously locks the sliding lounge doors and asks Shepard if she is alright.

Shepard stands still, unanswering, breathing heavily. Her nails dig half moons into her flesh as she clenches her fists to her sides.

EDI does not ask again.

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?" Kasumi's voice lilts gracefully across the nearly empty mess hall. It is 0245 and most of the crew is sleeping. There are only two ensigns sipping coffee at the end of the mess table, trading quiet conversation. Kasumi sits along the table at the other end, near Mess Sergeant Gardner's work station, watching Shepard as she dices and prepares food, her feet swinging freely.

Shepard does not look from her work. "No."

Kasumi watches her a moment, and then her eyes brighten quickly. "Want to steal something?"

Shepard glances quickly at the thief and her responding "No" is as much a refusal as a command.

Kasumi grumbles softly and braces her hands against the table below her. Her expression is suddenly wary and her voice hesitant. "Want to shoot something?"

"No."

Kasumi almost visibly relaxes. "So what are you doing then?"

Shepard slices along the cutting board quietly, steadily, her eyes focused. "I'm making chili."

Kasumi wants to laugh and then catches sight of what she is cutting. "Wait. Are those asari hanlos?"

Shepard's voice is barely-there and almost subconscious. "We don't have tomatoes," she answers simply.

Kasumi drops down from her perch atop the table and walks to her commander. "Oh Shep, you poor, poor cook you."

Shepard throws a dangerous look Kasumi's way and the thief pops a diced piece of hanlo into her mouth to stop her coming smirk. "How do you know how to make chili anyway?" she asks, her mouth moving around the juicy piece of purple asari vegetable in her mouth.

Shepard finishes slicing the hanlo on her cutting board and starts moving the pieces into the mixing bowl beside her. She glances momentarily out the nearest window and catches the stars gleaming past. Space is silent outside the Normandy. "Anderson taught me."

Kasumi quiets for a moment and watches her commander reaching for a nearby onion, cutting quietly. The thief leans back against the counter top and inclines her head toward Shepard. "Want some help?"

Shepard stills for a moment, her fingers hesitant along her blade, and then, slowly, she hands it to Kasumi. She glances up and the women lock eyes for only a moment. Kasumi's hand is tentative and comforting along Shepard's own as she hands over the knife.

They watch each other silently.

And then Kasumi is turning to the cutting board and slicing the onion.

Shepard reaches for the nearby pot and stops, her palms light along the handle. She takes a slow, aching breath in.

Beside her, Kasumi's whisper is almost too soft to hear. "I miss Keiji, too."

Shepard closes her eyes and breathes deep.

* * *

Illium is bright and elusive and all motion around them. Shepard looks up at the cabs speeding through the space above their heads as they walk toward the trading floor. They are there a moment and then gone. Shepard watches them longingly.

* * *

"Shepard."

When Liara breathes her name she doesn't feel deserving. The asari embraces her and she cannot will her arms to hold Liara back. She is filled with a sudden and unexplainable anger. She furrows her brow and bites her lip.

Liara releases Shepard and looks at her with eyes that make Shepard feel guilty for wanting death. Liara sighs, still holding Shepard by the arms, unwilling to let go for fear this is a dream. Her mouth opens once, then closes, and then she is leaning in once more to hold her.

This time Shepard's arms move to embrace Liara. There are tears on her lids she cannot explain.

"Oh, how I've missed you," Liara breathes into her shoulder, her voice scraping her throat with her own unshed tears. And then, more confidently, "I knew Cerberus could do it."

Shepard squeezes her eyes shut and holds the asari tighter to her.

Such a foolish girl. Such a stupid, naïve girl.

Shepard can only hold her.

* * *

"I like this guy already," Zaeed laughs, looking down at Nassana Dantius' dead mercenaries as they make their way through her unfinished towers. "Clean kills."

Shepard glances at the bodies as well. There is something graceful and purposefully about the kills that she cannot place, something that makes her anxious to meet this assassin. She sees the cracked neck of one human mercenary, the blown off face of a krogan battlemaster, the simple even outlines of a sniper shot through multiple synthetics' control panels along their backs and necks. Everything dead around them is with resolute efficiency.

"Hmm," Mordin muses. "Single shots. Proficient breaks. Displays competent knowledge of multiple alien anatomies." The salarian smiles approvingly.

Shepard catches sight of the elevator ahead and motions for Zaeed and Mordin to follow.

* * *

"I'm dying."

When the mysterious drell says the words, his back to her, there is something in Shepard that alights with excitement. It doesn't happen consciously. It doesn't happen out of malice or apathy or some sick humor.

Something in Shepard finds a kinship.

Such open acknowledgement. Such certainty. And no self-pity.

His words are as succinct and steady as his shots, as his killing blows. Shepard is comforted by his conviction, even as it promises death. With his admission, she suddenly feels closer to him than any of her crewmates.

Thane turns his dark eyes to her.

She stops, her throat caught in a tangle of emotion and words.

He blinks. Steady. Constant. Firm.

It is everything she feels she is not. She must look away. That kinship has vanished. And she feels stupid and arrogant and childish. They are nothing alike.

He moves with everything purposeful and intentional and sincere. Every motion is with principle, every action is meaningful. It is unlike anything she has ever felt or seen before.

He is simply watching her. He is simply watching her and it is enough to make her heart clench unnaturally. To make her blink in longing wonder. To make her hunger.

"I will go with you."

His grated voice rolls over her and she is alive for the first time since she awoke in a Cerberus lab. Her heart thuds anxiously in her chest. She wants to know this drell. She wants to know his certainty and his grace and his unquestioning conviction.

And she wants to know herself once more. She is tired of living a stranger.

Kaidan's face is far-off and unreachable in her mind.

She is tired of living for other people.

The new Shepard starts here.


	7. Something Truthful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Their breathes tangle in the space between them, each too tentative to move, each sitting in anxious and heated trepidation." - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

Sheparding Men

Chapter Seven: Something Truthful

_"Their breathes tangle in the space between them, each too tentative to move, each sitting in anxious and heated trepidation."_ \- A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

Shepard sits across from Thane in the Normandy's Life Support as he explains his Kepral's Syndrome. She focuses on the smooth rumble of his voice. Watches the elegant motion of his hands. Memorizes the lifts and curves of his lips as he speaks.

She cannot place the source of her fixation. Cannot name what magic in his voice keeps her still before him. She has never liked mysteries.

She frowns. Twists in her chair to push from her seat.

Thane blinks a silent farewell, and then he is turned from her.

Her teeth grind in uncertainty. This feeling is unknown. It is unnerving. Aggravating. She is surprised to realize, as she walks from the room, that it is also exhilarating.

* * *

Shepard's hands still over the terminal's keys. The screen before her is bare except for Kaidan's extranet messaging address. She blinks at the screen, then leans back into her chair. One hand comes up to her rib, resting along the cotton of her tank top, to unconsciously graze the burn scar of a Collector Particle Beam she suffered on Horizon. Sighing, Shepard closes the terminal and moves to leave her cabin.

* * *

"Shepard, may I speak with you?"

Sheaprd turns in her navigator's seat beside Joker, her smile fading instantly at the image of Jacob standing before her.

He stands with his hands clasped behind his back, shoulders pulled taut, chin high. Shepard sighs and raises herself to stand as well. "In the comm. room, Officer."

"Try not to burn the ship down, kiddies," Joker throws out laughingly at their backs as they move from the cockpit. Shepard throws a dangerous look the pilot's way.

"Jeff, that is a highly unlikely scenario." EDI's voice floats through the room. "Section seals would activate and venting of the area containing the flames would occur before the fire could grow substantially enough to 'burn the ship down'."

Joker pulls a hand to his face. "It was an expression, EDI. You know, a _human_ expression?"

Jacob and Shepard are too far away to hear the remainder of the conversation. They are already moving through the armory and into the communications room. Shepard turns and leans back against the table, crossing her arms.

Jacob stands at attention. "Permission to speak freely?"

Shepard snorts. "This isn't a military ship, Mr. Taylor. Besides, hasn't stopped you before."

Jacob only swallows thickly, licking his lips as he considers his words. "I'm concerned about the assassin."

"Thane?"

Jacob nods. "We have no guarantee of his loyalty."

She raises her brows. "For that matter, I have no guarantee of loyalty from any of you."

Furrowing his brows, Jacob continues. "None of your crew has ever been contracted hit men. There is a difference, Shepard."

Something in his tone makes anger bloom promisingly in her. "That only means you haven't been paid to kill, not that you are any more justified in the lives you've taken."

Jacob huffs angrily, and it is almost amusing to Shepard. "And you?"

Shepard stands straight at this. "We are not discussing the moral justifications of anyone's kills here, _especially_ not mine." Her nostrils flare at his gall. She scoffs and unfolds her arms. "You think I count myself as any better than you or this crew? Then you really have no idea who I am. And let me tell you, it's ugly. There is hardness and unapology and things worse than you think you know. But right now, this is my ship. And this is my decision. And you don't have to like it but you _damn well_ better not question it."

Jacob stands stiff, his fists at his sides, his jaw clamped tight.

"Are we clear?" There is danger lacing her tone.

"Yes, ma'am," Jacob breathes harshly.

Shepard shakes her head, her eyes hard on the officer before her, and then she is leaving the room without a backwards glance.

* * *

"Really? Never?" Miranda asks her commander, surprised, as they sit in a cab on their way to the crime scene that will lead them to Samara.

Shepard shakes her head. "Never had a reason."

"You don't need a reason to visit Illium," Miranda responds, smiling. "It's just a place you _have_ to visit."

Shepard rolls her eyes. "As you tell it."

"It _is_ a very beautiful planet, however hidden its danger." Thane's smooth rumble of a voice fills the cab's interior as they speed over Nos Astra's docking port.

"You've been? I mean, before the Dantius thing?" Shepard asks curiously as she looks back to the drell.

"On several assignments, yes." His eyes are dark and steady as they watch Shepard.

She eyes him curiously. "And how do you find it?"

Thane considers a moment before he speaks, turning his gaze to glance outside the virtual windows and to the city speeding past them. "Fast-moving. Elusive. Bright."

Shepard cocks her head and finds herself entranced by his words.

"Full of motion and light. But there is darkness brimming underneath."

Miranda nods. "As there is in any world." It is almost sad when she says it.

Thane returns his gaze to Shepard. "Hidden away, where few may find it, there is struggle here. Anger, hardship. When you dig deep enough, it is apparent how easy one may find themselves lost. Drifting. It is easy to forget oneself here in both the light and the dark. But one is not an apt enough description without the other."

Shepard wonders if he is still speaking of Illium. She doesn't care. Something in his words sounds familiar.

Lost.

She knows the feeling well.

She swallows and turns her eyes to the window, watching the motion and light Thane spoke of. Her smile is sad and resigned. "I wonder if I'll ever see it without the looming threat of the Reapers."

"It's what we're fighting for, Shepard." Miranda tries to sound reassuring but even she knows the odds are against them. She can only hope for something more for her sister. A different life. A free one.

Shepard looks at Miranda beside her and smirks. "I thought I was already done with this fight," she almost laughs.

"It is not done with you, Shepard," Thane answers surely, knowingly.

Her eyes snap to his and there is a quiet fury lodged in her heart at his words. It has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the truth in his words.

Thane leans forward and clasps his hands, elbows on his knees, to watch her. "You are here for a reason. Do not be so dismissive of it until you can understand why."

Shepard wants to snarl something back but it only sounds like whining to her, only sounds like a child throwing a tantrum. She sits back stiffly in her seat and does not look at the drell. She bites her lip, swallows down her words. Somehow it matters. It matters that he not think any less of her.

* * *

There is a fluidity to their movements as they fight the Eclipse mercenaries. An unspoken knowledge of the other at all times. Bullets fly dangerously by Shepard as she crouches behind a wall. Thane sends a biotic Pull at the mercenaries across from them and Shepard dispatches them quickly as they fly helplessly through the air. She sends an Incinerate toward the incoming mechs, and Thane makes quick work of the engineer on the far side repairing the drones, sending a bullet from his sniper precisely between the salarian's eyes.

It is not the easy, thrilling fun of battle that she shares with Garrus. Not the blood-pumping, adrenaline filled fight with Wrex or Grunt or Zaeed. Not the blue-tinged combat filled with the tingling haze of biotics from Liara or Jack. Not the quick and efficient motions shared with Tali or Mordin. Not even the assurance and steadiness that comes at the side of Kaidan. It is nothing but awe and fear and an ache she cannot describe.

Shepard watches Thane move and knows instinctively how to react, how to shift between cover, how to dance through bullets and showering omni-tool powers. How to be vulnerable and open and not sealed away. How to move from stagnation into light, how to reach from that dying place inside for something, anything, that makes her feel. It is overwhelming.

The danger makes her urgent. Thane makes her fervent.

The drell lets off a round of his sniper and Shepard finishes the Eclipse with an Incinerate. He looks back at her, a smile breaking slowly over the planes of his face. "I could get used to not working alone."

Shepard finds herself smiling back unconsciously.

* * *

Samara explains her solution to their dilemma succinctly and calmly.

Shepard watches the Justicar silently as Detective Anaya explains the situation.

The asari stands straight, her countenance both severe and graceful.

Shepard contemplates the Justicar and her 'Code'. She has never understood such rigidity. But she recognizes the discipline needed to lead such a life. It is a demand she knows she would never be strong enough to endure herself. It makes respect for the asari easy and unquestioning. It makes her smile natural and reassuring when she grasps the other woman's hand to shake.

Samara inclines her head gratefully.

* * *

Shepard has taken to sparring matches with Thane in the shuttle bay, out of view of the crew or where equipment can be damaged.

They are in one now, glistening with sweat and breathing heavily.

Thane's smile is a momentary glint in the slanted lights of the deck before he is on her. One leg sweeps out to trip Shepard, but she is jumping over the swing quickly, moving a fist to his head. He ducks lowly and steps around her, moving to catch her other arm as it swings back toward him, her body twisting with the motion. He catches it, and turns swiftly, holding her arm painfully behind her back.

She cries out softly, first surprised, and then furious. His motions are quick and calculated, executed without hesitation, and without a moment's notice. She throws her head back to catch him in the face, but he has expected as much and twists back, still holding her. She reacts instinctively. Placing a foot behind his own leg, she knocks it out from under him and takes advantage of his lean back to upset his footing, moving with him as he falls back to the floor. He grunts in mild surprise.

Thane releases his hold of her to brace himself against the floor, but she is already falling with him, landing forcefully on top of him and knocking the wind from him momentarily. She rolls off of him to regain her footing, replacing the cautious space between them. Thane is on his feet in the same time, a hand to his side, his breathing low and dragging.

Shepard blinks in concern, his condition suddenly at the forefront of her mind. He had initially waved off her apprehension at sparing with him, assuring her that he was still in fighting condition and eager to test his abilities against the 'great Commander Shepard'. She had laughed disparagingly, rolling her eyes at his description of her. Now though, she hesitates, feet bracing her lowly against the deck floor.

Thane blinks up at her, and then quirks a slow, challenging smile. "I am still waiting for 'the legend', Commander Shepard."

Shepard lets out a short disbelieving laugh, shaking her head. "Alright, Krios. You asked for it." She rushes him.

There is only a brief glimpse of surprise in his eyes before Thane realizes she intends to bull rush him, full force. He braces himself, ducks low and then raises up to catch her as she throws her full weight into him. He grabs a leg, using her own momentum to lift her into the air, her weight at his back and she is growling angrily in his ear. He chuckles unconsciously. He moves to slam her back down onto the floor when she grabs one of his arms and yanks it back, forcing his other arm to slide up and hold her by the torso.

Shepard smiles victoriously, her legs now free, and winds her calves around Thane's neck, attempting to choke him out, twisting them both to the floor where they land forcefully on their sides, both grunting in pain but unrelenting in their hold on one another. Shepard thinks she sees a smirk cross Thane's face as he struggles beneath the hold of her legs. Her confidence shakes slightly at the sight.

Before she can register it, Thane has them flipped so that she is on her stomach, her legs still tight around his neck as he sits along her back, his hands bracing against her calves. She slams a fist on the ground, roaring in frustration, unable to lean back or sit up under his weight. One of his knees digs into her spine and he reaches his hands back to grasp at her arms, twisting them in his hold so that even atop her in a leg hold, she is arched painfully into a hog-tied position.

She sucks in a sharp breath, a small whimper of pain escaping her lips that shames her. Her legs release Thane instantly, unable to hold the position any longer. He moves quickly, expectantly, turning to place an arm beneath her neck and the other hand coming up to hold her head. He braces his foot in her arm, keeping her from reaching back toward him. She grapples in the headlock, bucking wildly beneath his weight. There is no yielding. She resists for several more seconds, growling obscenities at him while he smirks above her. Eventually, she grumbles a surrender and Thane releases her instantly, moving to stand back and out of her heated reach.

Coughing briefly, Shepard looks up to Thane, a hand held to her throat, and then falls back softly to lay out on her back against the cold deck. She sighs and closes her eyes. "I'll get you one of these days." Her breathing is heavy and labored, her chest rising quickly beneath her dark tank top.

"It is unlikely."

Shepard can hear the deep, steady pull of his own breathing. She senses him kneel before her and opens one eye to watch him. His eyes flick quickly from her body up to her gaze. It is momentary, and uncertain, but Shepard feels an unexplainable tremble at the sight.

He watches her steadily. "Are you alright?"

She closes her eyes once more and sighs, a hand moving to her chest to try and steady her breathing. She waves the other dismissively at him. "Just let me catch my breath." She thinks of the leg hold she had him in and furrows her brows in mild confusion. "Why aren't you more out of breath?"

Thane moves to sit beside her, sliding one leg up to rest an arm atop his bent knee. "The ridges on my neck. All drell have them. It makes suffocation difficult for my species. Certainly an advantage in my line of work."

"I'll say," Shepard breathes, a smile soft along her face.

They stay like this for several more moments, breathing quietly as Shepard begins to regain herself. She opens her eyes and looks to Thane. She motions a hand toward him, waving it at the floor. "Join me."

She doesn't know what urges her to say the words.

Thane watches her hesitantly, blinking both lids in contemplation.

She catches herself and turns to face the ceiling. "That wasn't an order. It's just…" She watches the gray ceiling of the shuttle deck and imagines the stars outside. "It's just nice down here." She spreads a palm across the cold smooth floor.

There are several more moments of silence where Shepard silently admonishes herself, feeling anxious and vulnerable and silly. And then she feels Thane move beside her. He lays down next to her, inches and air separating them. There is something soothing about his proximity.

"You fight…unlike any I know." Thane says it quietly, wonder blooming slowly in his words.

Shepard swallows and keeps her gaze on the ceiling. "How so?"

Thane is quiet for a moment, rolling the words along his tongue, watching the same grey ceiling as Shepard. "I have seen you. With your crew. With your enemies. I have seen the way you retreat from life."

Shepard wants to snap back in denial, but she knows it is pointless. And she doesn't think she could lie to Thane anyway. She doesn't think she wants to.

He continues at her silence. "You simply go through the motions, continue along in silence and disconnection. There is hollowness to your gaze, emptiness to your movements, apathy to your words."

Shepard swallows and closes her eyes.

"You are as dead now as you were two years ago."

She snaps her eyes open and moves to sit up, her gaze angry and sharp on Thane. "You don't know anything about it," she growls.

Thane moves to sit up as well. He is still calm, still steady and sure. He continues as though she hadn't even spoken. "But not when we spar."

Shepard blinks hard at him, silent.

He cocks his head at her, his dark eyes unnerving her. "Something inside you is still defiant, still refuses defeat. Something in you doesn't want to _stay_ dead."

Shepard finds her lip quivering and she must clamp her jaw shut. She draws a deep ragged breath through her aching lungs and wishes more than anything that she believed him. Her words are steadier than she feels. "You couldn't understand."

"I have never died before, no."

She sighs at the words, shaking her head. "I'm not the same woman I was."

"You do not have to be."

It is the first time that she does not feel ashamed or guilty for it. The first time her old life has not dug its claws in and tried to rip the past from her. She is still untethered. Still grasping in the darkness. Still lost. "But I don't know where I go from here. I don't know what one does with a second life." She wipes a hand across her eyes, slowly growing wet and she hates that he sees her like this. "It's so stupid," she mumbles mostly to herself.

He does not hesitate. "You live it."

She glances up at him, a soft, quivering laugh leaving her lips. "You make it sound so simple."

There is the slight quirk of his lips. "It isn't really. But I have felt enough regret and relived enough mistakes to understand wasted time, wasted opportunity, wasted life. I would not wish to see you waste yours. It is too good a thing to throw away uselessly. I think some part of you believes that, too." His hand is reaching to brush a stray dark curl from her braid behind her ear. He is hesitant at first, and then sure and tender, the barest hint of his finger grazing the skin of her cheek. It makes the breath catch softly in her throat. And then his warmth is gone and Shepard wonders if she imagined it.

He is looking across the room, not meeting her eyes when he speaks again. "When I said you fight like no other I know, it was that hidden defiance I meant."

Shepard breathes softly beside him and wishes for his touch again. Wishes for it with an intensity that scares her.

"An untamed spirit. Powerful. Indomitable. Unrelenting." His gaze rests on hers once more and there is something awed and tender in his gaze. "Like a fierce and dying animal."

Shepard lets out a short laugh, smirking. "Sounds absolutely barbaric."

"I think it's beautiful."

Shepard swallows tightly, shifts her gaze between his dark eyes, her fingers trembling. Her eyes flick to his lips unconsciously, only briefly, for a barely-there moment, but it is enough. Thane catches the glance and finds something warm and tight brewing in his chest, constricting in a welcome ache. Their breathes tangle in the space between them, each too tentative to move, each sitting in anxious and heated trepidation.

Shepard is the first to look away. She clears her throat, reaches her hands to the floor and pushes herself up. Thane soon follows her. Shepard brushes her hands against her bottom and adjusts her tank top.

Thane watches her intently.

She takes a deep breath in, locking gazes with him once more. "I'll see you here tomorrow?" There is a shaky longing hidden in her question.

Thane pulls his hands to grasp behind his back and nods succinctly. "Tomorrow, siha."

Shepard furrows her brows at his name for her, but does not trust herself to be near him any longer. Instead, she smiles slightly, nodding, and turns from him.

Thane watches her walk, waits for her to leave the shuttle bay before he moves himself.

* * *

"Tell me something about Omega." Shepard's words are unexpected in the dark, hollow spaces of the Collector ship. They had recently boarded after receiving a transmission from the Illusive Man about the damaged vessel. It was eerily quiet, full of empty spaces and dark promise. Shepard had reached for something else, tried to anchor her consciousness outside the void. It was the first thing she thought of when she glanced at Garrus beside her.

Garrus peeks a curious look at the commander through his visor, keeping his ears trained on the area around them. "This is hardly the time."

She doesn't know why she feels she must persist. "There is never a 'right time' for such a thing, Garrus."

Thane is smooth and all shadow beside her, sliding swiftly along the wall that would lead them into the next barren chamber.

Garrus half chuckles into the comm. link connecting them through their helmets. "Did you just wax poetic on me, Shepard?"

Shepard lowers her rifle minutely to level the turian with narrowed slits for eyes. Even through the limited space in her breather helmet, there is room enough to see her annoyance. It makes Garrus laugh again, softly, careful not to alert their enemy to their presence.

"I believe she has," comes Thane's unexpected entrance into the conversation.

"Lacks weight," Garrus replies.

"Hmm," Thane agrees. "Word choice or inflection?"

"Definitely inflection. Shepard can't say a thing without sounding like a krogan with a bowel obstruction."

Thane is thankful his back is to the woman because he does not think she would suffer him his smile. He pivots around the next corner only to find another empty corridor.

"Okay, fuck both of you then." Her words are a growl, but there is something warm and foreign blossoming in her chest. She grasps desperately at the feeling, tries to wrap it into memory and bury it deep where she can always find it. It surprises her to feel the corners of her lips twisting upwards. She feels the freedom of smiling blindingly behind the concealment of her breather helmet. She doesn't know why it should feel so rebellious. She hears both of them laugh beside her and something lights within her.

The three of them move synchronously through the vacant Collector corridors, gathering unattended tech and logging scans. EDI's voice floats gracefully through the radio in their helmets from time to time, commenting on their findings and suggesting further routes toward their destination. It is largely silent through their trek of the Collector vessel. It isn't until their discovery of the Prothean test subject hooked to scanners and lab equipment that a heaviness begins to mar their features. EDI relays the information confirming the Prothean and Collector connection. Shepard navigates through the questions and conversation easily and stoically, her voice steady, words succinct, countenance unflinching. She is the eternal commander. She is forever the soldier, forever the faceless leader. She is staunch and removed and calculated.

Something in the way she moves registers with Garrus. Had he been someone new to her company, had he been unaccustomed to her tells and her silence and her subtle movements, he may have never noticed. Never noticed the fear and confusion and apprehension bundled tight in her muscles.

Garrus glances to Thane and catches the drell sneaking glimpses toward their commander. It seems the drell is as attentive as he. And it surprises him. Because he doesn't think Thane knows the commander well enough to tell when she is slipping and consumed and in need of grounding.

They lock eyes for a moment, just enough time to pass understanding, to share the uncertainty of concern with each other. And Garrus sees the unease in the drell. Sees the unknowing. Sees that he really doesn't know Shepard well enough, sees that he is trying and attentive and for some reason, troubled. But he is still learning. Still watching. Still cautious and observing and hesitant when it comes to Shepard. Still unaware of what words and how much and to what end should he push.

But Garrus knows. Garrus recognizes when he is needed. He has always felt his way with Sheaprd.

"What do you want to know?" The turian asks nonchalantly through their radio link.

Shepard's only motion of surprise is swift blinking and the minute tension in her shoulders. "What?" There is harshness to her words that she does not intend toward Garrus.

He knows without her saying. "About Omega. What do you want to know?"

The three continue to traverse the empty corridors of the ship and there is silence long enough to make Garrus wonder if Shepard has chosen to close off again. A silence long enough to make him wonder if his words count for anything with her anymore.

He hears her swallow thickly through the comm. link, her words trailing her hesitance in similar hushed tones. "Something real."

Garrus moves his rifle to aim around the next winding corridor, her words lingering, heavy, pointed.

She hears him sigh slightly, wonders if he knew she heard it. She does not stop in her progress of the chamber they currently investigated. She flicks her gaze to his form beside her, unwavering, constant, without demand. "Something truthful," she finishes softly.

Thane moves to a nearby console to begin downloading Collector data, standing respectfully outside the audible bubble of their conversation, even when his earpiece allows for the constant open connection. He hears every word, though he feels it is outside his duty and his comprehension to participate.

"Something truthful, huh?" Garrus repeats softly, lowering his rifle to activate the scan along his omni-tool as they inspected the chamber they stood in.

Shepard didn't bother with trying to find more Collector data. She simply stood near Garrus, her sniper lowered, her gaze affixed to him, her eyes hopeful and knowing all at once.

Garrus releases a short exhale of half laughter half scoffing. "I named a batch of grenades 'Shepard'."

She blinks at him, silent. She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry or stand quietly dumbfounded. "Why?" It is the only word she can utter.

"I was angry at the time. Vengefully so. Went through a kamikaze phase I dressed up in 'vigilante justice'." When he says the words, he remembers the pain and the need and the hate. He remembers the ease that came with aiming a rifle at criminals, the release that came with gang retaliation. He knows somewhere inside, somewhere he isn't sure doesn't already belong to her, that he just hadn't recognized grief and denial for what it was. He knows that what he felt and what he did probably wasn't healthy. And he knows that Shepard may only have an inkling. "And it felt right, you know? Watching something explode in flames and destruction and have it called 'Shepard'. Have it look like how you should have gone. Not slow and unknown. Not quietly." He chances a glance in her direction. "Maybe it's a stupid wish."

She is shaking her head without realizing, her mouth tight and quivering, her eyes wet with tears she didn't think she could still feel.

Garrus turns back to the console, turns his gaze from hers because these are not things he wants to remember.

Shepard can only shake her head, only watch him. She wants this moment and this body and this stupid fucking life to mean something again. She wants to know that it wasn't without significance. She wants to know that all this pain and all this regret and all this pointless existential bullshit isn't killing her more. Isn't dragging her deeper. Isn't burying her alive. She just wants a reason to live again.

She just wants to live.

And she isn't sure she knows how anymore. She isn't sure she knows how to recognize the signs when they call to her. She isn't sure she won't be too afraid when the time comes to try for it. She isn't sure that she can call herself Commander Shepard anymore and have it _mean_ something.

She pulls a heavy, steadying breath in, closes her eyes to the wetness and tries to control the tremble along her skin.

"Shepard."

She turns to the sound of her name, sculpted in Thane's deep, resonating tone. He is standing, waiting, watching. Unexpectant. Ready. He hoists his rifle higher in his grasp, readying for the continuation of their progress through the Collector Ship. He levels his gaze on hers. Keeps his breathing along hers. Adjusts his body so that he is a mirror reflection of her own, so that he is only a flipside away. "We are not done yet."

The words are unyielding and demanding. Purposeful. Exact. True to their current mission and yet whole encompassing on their own.

Shepard lets the words wash over her and burrow inside. She had been resentful of them at first. That she wasn't done yet. Not finished. She had been angry and spiteful and resistant. Living a mockery of a life that she thought she had finished and was now too lost to fight.

Thane stands unblinking.

Something had changed. _Was_ changing. Changing in ways Shepard didn't think she was ready for. There was demand in this new Shepard, in intimate and hurtful ways that she had no words for. Need and defiance and a fear she could not have recognized in her old life. Fear she could not have recognized without the ache and hunger for purpose, without the yearning for a glimpse of what existence Thane promised.

She wanted a purpose. She wanted a reason.

Thane had once told her that there is reason behind even the smallest ripple in the universe. Opportunity and reason and the chance at grasping for more. The knowledge that their imprints would be felt.

Shepard slowly begins to understand that being alive for today is a promise of eternity. A measure of her worth in this immense and unknown universe. She begins to realize that there is meaning even now. Even in the 'after'. Even in this life she had thought to abandon. Even in this empty shell she had used as shelter from the world.

She stops at the thought.

She had kept herself apart for too long, alone and unconnected and without motive enough to care. She thinks of this world she is fighting for. This galaxy of possibility and impossibility. This chance at a brutal and exhilarating life. This moment of beauty and hurt and freedom. This tangled mess of connection. This ache of a presence she _wants_ to feel.

She _wants_ to feel it.

She wants to be part of it.

She wants to win this world and live it.

She shivers with the possibility.

Shepard keeps her gaze with Thane's and takes a step forward. Moves with purpose. Realization. Understanding.

She knows that it's okay to face the unknown. That it's okay to be trembling and raging and afraid.

She knows now that it only has meaning if she _wants_ it.

* * *

It is easy to be angry with the Illusive Man once his knowledge of the Collector trap is revealed. It is easy to feel such rage when her crewmates are at risk. It is easy when she imagines what she had risked. Thane and Garrus.

And some small part of her is angry for herself. Angry because he had risked _her_ life.

It is a strange thing now, to realize that she wants to live. To realize that she wants this chance at life. She finds herself fiercely protective of it. Something that is hers. Something she has power over.

It is a wondrous thing to know that her future is so unknown. So infinite. So unlimited in is reaches.

It is a wondrous thing to know that she is alive.

* * *

Shepard checks her terminal to find a message from Kaidan. She pauses, her hand stilled over the terminal's keyboard, her breath sharp and aching in her chest. She opens the message.

He asks her about the security of the channels aboard the new Normandy and the possibility of a real-time vid message. There is little else. No mention of Horizon. No questions about her well-being. Just the efficient and mission-oriented officer she first met on the Normandy years ago. It is not the Kaidan she needs right now.

Shepard deletes the message, her features hard and brow set.

Let him reach out this time.

And let there be nothing there, she thinks quietly.

She stands still and fuming in her cabin. It's spiteful, she knows. Childish. Weak. But she cannot let herself live a life that ended two years ago. And she cannot forgive Kaidan for leaving her for it. Something twists painfully in her chest. She's not the same person he once loved.

_"You do not have to be."_

The memory of Thane's words steadies her. Makes her pull in deep, reassuring breathes.

She thinks he might be right.


	8. Choosing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Her fingers dip lower to graze his collar bone. 'Am I out of line?' she whispers breathlessly, heatedly." - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

Sheparding Men

Chapter Eight: Choosing

_"Her fingers dip lower to graze his collar bone. 'Am I out of line?' she whispers breathlessly, heatedly."_ \- A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

There is little Shepard likes as much as the silence of a Normandy night. She has become accustomed to little sleep and even less alone time. The consumption of her life by the duties of command has never been as burdensome to her as others profess. She revels in it. In being needed, in asserting control, even in the endless reports and the long hours. It makes every second of her time important. It makes her useful and diligent. She has never been one to sit quietly, hands empty, purpose unknown. It makes the last few months even harder for her to bear, even harder for her to admit that part of herself that was lost and hopeless and ghost-like.

Shepard has worked out an agreed upon schedule with Miranda in which the Cerberus officer has the deck in the early evening and night hours. It gives the Commander a few hours to sleep and then time to enjoy the late hours before she returns to duty to relieve Miranda. These rare moments of solitude inside the sleeping Normandy's hull are the closest to "off duty" as she can truly call herself. She must be ready at a moment's notice, at any hour, in any attire, for an emergency. They are in the Terminus Systems after all. They don't have the luxury to relax. Alertness is key. Preparedness is essential. Every nerve in Shepard's body is ready to snap taut in reaction, ready to catapult her into movement. But she needs something to tie her to this fight. She needs something to remind her of the 'why'.

Space has always been that for her. Watching stars streaming past the Normandy's deck windows when they are in flight fills her with purpose. She recalls the faint memory of her mother's words. The marvel at the blank space between stars. The utterly infinite possibilities of space. The daunting realization of how small you are in comparison. The excitement of knowing you are a universe of choices yourself. Full of chance and yearning and unpredictability. The knowledge that anything is possible. That we cannot yet know the heights to which our lives may reach. This awe Shepard feels when watching the stars in the Normandy's deck at night, these thoughts she anchors somewhere deep inside herself, this is what Shepard is beginning to understand. This is what Shepard is finding reason enough to fight for. This is what keeps her steady and focused.

She hears the light _swish_ of the deck doors sliding open. She turns her gaze from her seat along the couch to find Thane standing in the threshold, holding two steaming mugs of something Shepard cannot make out but hopes desperately contains caffeine.

"I do not wish to intrude if solitude is your wish." His voice is resonant in the silent room, and Shepard picks up the barely-there hopeful tone laced beneath.

Shepard smiles without reservation and pats the space next to her on the couch. She has her legs folded up beneath her and her arms stuffed in to the warmth of her cotton hoodie. Thane moves toward her with the mugs in hand and holds one out to her. She takes it, nodding her thanks and moves to take a whiff of the liquid as Thane seats himself next to her.

She inhales deeply, settling comfortably into the cushion at her back, a warm, satisfied smile spreading across her features. "Mmm, tea."

Thane nods, watching her, and there is the slightest twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips. He leans back into the couch and turns to gaze out the large windows as Shepard does.

"Anyone else would have brought me coffee." She blows a cautionary breath across the surface of the steaming tea. "Not that I'm complaining."

"I would have, had it been day hours." Thane takes a sip himself.

Shepard cocks her head in question at him and he notices the motion. Turning slightly to lock gazes with her, he answers warmly. "I am aware that in the evenings you prefer tea to coffee. Am I correct?"

Shepard blinks at him momentarily and then chuckles, moving her mouth to her mug. "Stalker," she mumbles before taking a sip.

A wry smile pulls at Thane's lips. "Observant."

"Creepy."

"Attentive," he counters.

Shepard cannot argue that one. There is comfortable silence for many minutes as they sip their tea before Thane turns to her.

"Have you given thought to our next move?"

Shepard sighs and fingers the handle of her mug, her eyes still on the stars past the window. "We have the information we need to get us through the Omega Relay. This Reaper IFF seems to be the key. But I'm not sure our ground crew is prepared for a full-on assault, especially without knowing the enemy's numbers and entrenchment. Besides," Shepard sighs wistfully, turning her gaze to look about the Normandy's deck, "the old girl could probably use another coat of paint."

Thane cocks his head at her. "We have researched substantial upgrades since I boarded."

Shepard muses quietly, pursing her lips. "Not enough. Not what _I'd_ send a frigate into unknown territory with."

Thane nods and looks back out the window before them. "There are several crewmen who have ideas about that."

"And that's another thing," Shepard half-groans. "The crew. Some have approached me with...personal matters."

"How so?"

"Asking for help in solving certain issues outside the Normandy and our mission parameters." Shepard lowers the mug to her lap. She still wonders sometimes how Thane can bring words to her lips without her even thinking them. How conversation is so natural and easy. How trust is so implicit and unquestioned.

"Are you going to pursue these missions?"

"Likely. I need a mentally sound crew as much as I need a physically sound one."

"Good philosophy."

"Philosophy. Huhn. You're rubbing off on me." She quirks a smile his way and he returns it casually.

"It sounds like you've already made your decision. Why the hesitation?"

She does not know how he can sense it in her so easily. How he can read her motions and expressions so thoroughly. The sudden idea of him watching her is unexpectedly thrilling. She has to swallow down that tight breath of excitement before she can continue. "I don't know how much time I can afford." When she says the words, she is back to heavy and tired and anxious. "Can I afford to risk that another colony won't be taken while I'm out chaperoning a dysfunctional crew?"

Thane watches her with dark eyes as he answers. "Can you afford to risk the thousands dependant on your succeeding in this mission? No one will thank you for rushing off only to fail. A commander must have the trust and loyalty of their crew, but they must also trust and be loyal _to_ their crew themselves. It is not an easy decision, of course, but your judgment is sound. You already know what to do."

Shepard looks at him breathlessly. She is confident enough in her own leadership that she doesn't need his validation for any of her decisions. But the knowledge that he stands whole-heartedly behind them is what shakes the old Shepard loose, what cements the belief that she can move forward, that she _is_ moving forward. And that she doesn't do it alone.

She lets out a weary breath. "I didn't have too sound of judgment just a short while ago." She thinks on the last few months of her listless, angry existence. "I wasn't sure this was a life I could still lead, still want, still choose to live."

"Every morning you wake you are choosing this life." He answers so assuredly, so immediately, as though he wonders how she doesn't know this herself.

She has gotten sick of the self-pity and the languid drudgery of a wasted life. And she realizes that he is right. She realizes that she has been choosing life all along. She has been looking for purpose and need and something alarmingly new to justify this second chance. To ignite her into action. She only needed a reminder.

She is suddenly wondering what advice Kaidan would have offered. Would he have followed her decision to delay the IFF mission until their crew and ship were prepared? Would he have argued that hundreds more could be abducted while they traversed the galaxy? Would he have seen the immediate situation, and not the circumstances of a farther-reaching future? Would he have understood the difficulty in command? The hardness that comes from such decisions. The slow and ever-changing process of accepting death on your hands. The way of living life without regrets. Would he have understood why she must do what she does? Would he have understood the person she was? The person she _is_?

Would he have loved this Shepard?

And is she so different from the old one that Kaidan cannot still reach for her?

Shepard must turn her gaze from Thane and look back out the window. These are not things she wants to think on. She gingerly turns the mug around in her hand and moves her mouth to speech. "I'm done with my tea. Think I'll start getting ready for duty." She turns her gaze to his and brushes a stray dark curl behind her ear. "Thanks for the company."

"Always, siha." His voice is smoke-laced, and sinks deep into her bones. Her breath hitches minutely, before she swallows tightly and pushes herself from the couch.

Thane can see something brimming just below the surface. But he cannot figure what. And he is not one to ask if she will not tell. But he cannot keep his eyes from her form as she raises herself from her seat on the couch and moves to exit the deck. He cannot help the deep inhale he reflexively takes as her shower-fresh scent wafts past him. He cannot help the way he licks his lips in heated anticipation.

He cannot understand this effect she has on him. Cannot understand how simply watching her sets his nerves on fire.

He has relived enough memory flashes of her green-almond eyes, of her wry smile, of the sharp grace of her form, to know that he is too far gone to turn back now. To know that he is caught, deeply and forcefully and without regret.

To know that he can hardly deny himself a taste any longer.

* * *

"Tell Joker to set a course for Haestrom. We're picking up Tali," Shepard instructs EDI as she stands in the comm. room with Jacob and Miranda.

"Of course, Shepard." EDI's graceful voice answers throughout the room and then cuts out.

Miranda stands with her arms crossed, leaning her weight on one leg. "Alright, Shepard. Our last dossier. And after that?"

"We've got a few upgrades I'm thinking of getting, and some crew have come to me with concerns," she answers as she eyes Miranda meaningfully.

The Cerberus officer keeps her features unchanged but there is the glint of recognition in her eyes, and a slow, grateful smile spreading across her lips. She understands that it is not Shepard's responsibility to attend to her sister's safety. But it gives her one more reason to follow the woman.

"What about the Reaper IFF?" Jacob's voice draws Shepard's attention. "Shouldn't we get that as soon as possible?"

"It won't make a difference if we aren't prepared to use it." Shepard watches Jacob with narrowed slits for eyes. "I won't rush off to the Collector base without substantial belief we can actually do anything more than die over there."

Miranda nods her assent. "Smart thinking, Commander." She turns to Jacob then. "Cerberus has not disclosed the location of the Reaper wreck. That IFF isn't in danger of anyone finding it. We have the time."

"No we don't," he almost growls. "Colonists are being abducted as we speak. And regardless, our Cerberus science teams have gone silent on the derelict Reaper. Who knows what that means?"

"It means," Shepard interrupts, "that at this point we are of no help to the science team. We prepare. We upgrade. We move in when we're ready. Not before. Not after. And _not_ when you deem it the appropriate time."

Miranda watches Jacob uneasily. "Cerberus resurrected Shepard for a reason, Jacob. We have to trust in her command."

Shepard is too frustrated with Jacob to feel gratitude toward Miranda's words at the moment. Instead, she stands watching the man intently, nostrils flaring minutely.

"I'm starting to wonder what that reason was," he dares, his eyes not leaving Shepard's. "Because it sure doesn't sound like you're on our side here, Shepard."

Shepard smirks in a menacing way that Jacob feels maybe he should be frightened of. But instead, he crosses his arms and waits expectantly for a response.

Miranda opens her mouth to reprimand him when Shepard's voice reaches her.

"Miranda, leave us for a minute will you?" Her tone is deadly calm and steady.

The other woman eyes the two of them warily, then nods to her commander and walks from the room, sighing. "Your funeral, Jacob."

There are several long seconds of tense quiet as the two in the room watch each other. Then, Shepard moves to lean a hip against the edge of the table in the center of the room. Jacob stands still, arms over his chest, across from her.

"Let me be clear about something, Taylor," she begins. "I don't particularly like you."

He lets out a half-laugh, half-scoff. "Doesn't surprise me."

"You don't know when to shut the fuck up," she responds meaningfully, her head inclined toward him.

He is only slightly taken aback by her words and her tone. But he doesn't show it, only swallows thickly and waits for her to continue.

"You're unnecessarily defensive, constantly insubordinate and antagonizing toward the men and women _I_ have chosen to recruit for this mission."

Jacob foolishly decides to speak. "Miranda questions your commands as well. Why isn't she receiving this lecture?" he huffs.

Shepard's eyes narrow so fast he almost misses it. "She does so with sound judgment, not blatant insubordination. And at the end of the day, that woman knows whose word is the law on this ship. And she performs her duties without dictating to me every _fucking waking second_ what mine are."

Jacob grinds his teeth. "I'm only trying to-"

"I don't give a _shit_ what you're trying to do," she snaps, standing straight up and advancing toward him. "It stops now. Had this been a military ship I'd have had you thrown out for insubordination half an hour after meeting you." Her finger comes up to jab in his chest and he sets his jaw tighter. "But this isn't the Alliance. This isn't military. This is _my_ fucking ship. And I can say and do whatever I goddamn want. Which means you, on the other hand, cannot." She pulls in a deep, heavy breath, anger seething through her clenched teeth. "Not what you signed up for? Tough shit, officer. Bet they didn't tell you in the brochure that I was a bitch, huh? Well, this isn't a fucking game, this isn't a cruise ship or a democracy or any other bullshit running through your head right now." Her voice is rising, her fists clenching at her sides, knuckles white beneath her grip. "I'm not your suped-up cybernetic Cerberus Barbie with a grenade launcher. I'm _Commander Shepard_ , you fuckwit. So you better keep your head down and fall in line or this really will be a suicide mission for you."

Her words are loud and dangerous, sharp like her sniper shots. Jacob swallows tightly and watches her, and Shepard wonders if anything she has to say means anything to this man. She turns from him, scoffing. "Get the fuck out of here," she dismisses harshly.

Jacob pulls a deep breath in, uncrossing his arms warily, and starts for the door. He does not speak. Does not even look at her.

Shepard leans back against the table and grips the edge. There is anger sifting through her still. But there is something else.

_I'm Commander Shepard._

She is remembering what that used to feel like.

A slow smile blooms across her features.

* * *

"So glad we're picking up Tali," Joker begins. "Kind of in need of her tech skills. My toaster oven's been all wonky lately."

Shepard stands behind him, not amused, and cocks a brow at him as he looks back to her.

"No? Alright, whatever." He turns back to the controls and Shepard shakes her head.

* * *

When Shepard hears that Tali is trapped on the other side of the stone courtyard, she is filled with a focused determination she relishes.

She thinks back to a time when Tali had accompanied her to take on the rogue VI at the Luna facility. She thinks back to the quarian's soft hold on her arm, her head on her shoulder as they watched the bright orb of Earth from the moon's surface. She thinks back to her words.

_We won't let the Reapers have it._

Shepard loads her Widow sniper rifle and motions for Samara and Kasumi to follow.

This is not someone she can leave behind. This is not someone she can imagine the Normandy without.

* * *

When Shepard embraces Tali upon finding her, it is a different hug than when they had met at Freedom's Progress. It is not hesitant or scared or unsure. Tali can feel the difference, holds her commander tighter, breathes easier. She doesn't know what has happened in the time they have been apart but she can tell that something has ignited within the other woman. Something she had desperately needed when she first awoke.

Tali finds her decision is easy. She finds she will go anywhere with this woman.

* * *

"So I heard you ripped into our Mr. Taylor a little while ago," Garrus chuckles good-naturedly. He was sitting in the backseat of the hover car with Shepard in the front and Miranda at the controls. They were making their way through the Nos Astra docking port trailing the Eclipse mercenaries after Oriana and her family.

Miranda shot a stiff look at Garrus, her words tight and low. "That tidbit was not for repeating, Vakarian."

Shepard wants to laugh. She thinks maybe she should be exasperated with the insinuation that her actions are part of the regular gossip mill aboard the Normandy. But instead, she is surprised by the idea that Miranda and Garrus even talk. That they talk, apparently, in considerable confidence is both strange and heart-warming. That her old and new crew can connect on such levels eases her mind more than she thought it would. It is not something she has thought much on before. It makes her smile easy and natural.

Garrus only shrugs nonchalantly while he laughs at Miranda's irritated expression. "You should probably know then that I can't resist the tale of a good ass-kicking. Even a verbal one."

Miranda rolls her eyes and returns her attention to the controls.

Shepard shakes her head at the turian. "You know I don't kick and tell, Garrus." She is surprised at her own response. But she knows that whether she actually likes Jacob or not is not the issue. That he is still a part of her crew, and deserving of her discretion and silence, is the issue. And she will not break that code for anyone. Even with the gleeful face of Garrus waiting excitedly for the story.

He tuts softly. "You're such a downer, Shepard."

"There. Eclipse." Miranda motions toward the north-eastern quarter of the docking bay and Shepard wonders if the relief she hears in the operative's voice is as much for the end of the conversation as it is for her sister.

Shepard readies her weapon.

* * *

Mordin moves in short, stunted motions around the Tech lab when he explains his desire to go to Tuchanka. There is hesitance in his words, uncertainty about Shepard's thoughts on his work with the genophage. But his commander's approval is inconsequential compared to the life of his friend, his student, his teammate, Maelon.

Shepard stands with her arms crossed, watching him pace the floor, before she reaches an arm out and stops his frantic movements.

Mordin blinks at her, waiting.

She sighs, running a hand through her loose hair. "It's fine, Mordin. We can make the trip. I want to get a krogan opinion on Grunt's shit anyway. So, two birds and everything, you know?"

Mordin cocks his head at the unfamiliar human expression, his mouth opening, when Shepard waves her hand dismissively. "Nevermind. Just, yeah, we'll look into Maelon's kidnapping."

Mordin pulls in a deep, satisfied breath. "Am aware this is not a priority. Appreciate your assistance nonetheless, Commander."

She smiles softly. "I know."

* * *

The forceful impact of Wrex's hand on her shoulder in greeting is enough to knock a shallow breath from her. But she is smiling blindingly, and clasping arms with him as well. She is glad she had not reconnected with him in the midst of her recent depression. She didn't think Wrex would recognize her. Didn't think he'd respect her as much. And somehow, that was important. It was important that she remain strong in his image of her. It was how they connected. How they reached each other.

A brilliant smile stretches the hard planes of his face. "I thought you died."

"I got better,"she offers.

"Hah!" Wrex barks a laugh and releases her. "Always knew you were meant for more."

The thought warms her more than anything else that is said between them.

* * *

When they discover the truth about Maelon's situation, her eyes immediately fly to Mordin. She knows that sense of betrayal, that confusion at realizing how little you know someone, that hurt at finding a stranger looking back at you.

She sees Kaidan's face and moves to Mordin quickly.

She catches his arm as he raises his gun to Maelon. The other salarian is wide-eyed and shaking, disbelieving of the image before him, his former mentor and friend with a finger on a trigger, aimed at him.

Mordin glances to Shepard quickly, hurt and confusion and a sad resignation flashing across his features. His eyes blink eagerly at her. Waiting for some sense of sanity in her words, some guidance to ease this decision. She has never seen him so uncertain. And she has never thought to imagine those eyes focused on her. She has never imagined him needing her in this way.

She swallows tightly and moves her hand to cover his own, pulling his arm down. She does not move her gaze from his. She does not release him.

She can't remember what she says to him. Can't remember what words ease the pain from those large eyes, but he looks from her, his shoulders slumped, his body tense and still.

"Go."

His voice is hollow and regretful.

Maelon does not look back.

Shepard hopes Mordin can live with this. She knows the burden he carries. She knows the weight of such decisions, knows the loneliness that comes with responsibility.

When he looks back up to her, there is a look shared between them. An understanding. The knowledge of a life lived apart from others, a life lived in secret and heaviness. A life not shared.

Mordin watches Shepard silently. And it becomes a little easier to bear.

* * *

Shepard laughs when Zaeed comments on Grunt's "puberty". The krogan in question grumbles beside them.

* * *

Grunt is roaring his excitement as he lets off round after round at the incoming varren. Shepard shakes her head and shares a look with Thane flanking the other side of the square. The drell smiles backs as he sends out a biotic Pull and she dispatches the floating varren easily.

"Haha! We should have rites more often!" Grunt barrels into a pack of varren, barking his laughter.

* * *

It isn't until Shepard thinks she sees Thane die that her decision is made.

The acid from the thresher maw slams into the column shielding him, and the metal crumbles instantly, tumbling on top of him even as he rolls to dodge the impact.

Shepard is watching in horror as the debris comes down in a deafening crash, her breath lodging sharply in her throat. A cloud of dust obscures her view. The thresher maw is forgotten momentarily.

Her instinct is to move toward Thane, when suddenly, the maw releases another shot of acid and she catches sight of it just in time to tumble back behind the cover she was just in. The acid sears the ground before her, her arm coming up to shield her face, and she grunts at the searing burns along her legs as the acid splashes from the impact. The smell is sharp and putrid as she tries to lift herself from the ground, scrambling for her omni-tool to release the medi-gel and reaching for her fallen rifle. She hears Grunt's assault rifle in the background and turns to the fallen debris across from her.

Her eyes shift through the dust and smoke in panic until she sees the undulating blue of Thane's biotics throwing debris from on top of him. He raises himself, limping, panting, his eyes searching for hers instinctually. She is braced against the concrete column at her back, her shoulders slumping in trembling relief.

She reaches for her Collector Particle beam, her face hard and set as she turns from her cover and aims for the maw.

She knows what she wants now.

* * *

Shepard's eyes do not leave Thane as Chakwas examines him. He sits obediently on top of one of the med-bay beds as the doctor scans him and dresses his wounds. Shepard herself already had her legs bandaged by the doctor and Grunt had long since left the med-bay after her initial examination of him. The krogan barely had a scratch.

When Chakwas is done and Thane is moving to replace his jacket, Shepard stands silently and expectantly at the door. The two move wordlessly from the med-bay and out onto the second deck. She walks him to Life Support. He does not question the company. But he notices the subtle tension in her walk, the strained and pensive look on her face. It is not until they are alone in the Life Support room that he addresses it.

"Siha." His name for her pulls her attention to his face and he is blinking at her, standing beside her in the empty room.

She licks her lips and swallows.

"What is wrong?" His voice is steady and soft, hiding the demand in his question.

She turns fully to him and opens her mouth hesitantly. "I'm sorry, I just…" She glances to her boots, pulls in a deep breath and looks back to him.

He waits for her words patiently.

She shakes her head. "Just got a little serious back there, you know? With the maw. I, uh…thought you weren't getting up from that hit." She expects her words to be shaking, expects her hands to be fumbling and her breath nervous. But she has never been one to shy from the truth. She has never been one to lie about her feelings, to cover up, to place pride before honesty. She has always been open to the risk of vulnerability. Even when she expects the hurt. It is no different with Thane.

He smirks. "I did promise my help with the Collectors. I would be remiss to leave your service before that."

His ease at the situation is both enduring and troubling. She steps closer to him. His eyes flicker in recognition. His breath halts momentarily.

Her eyes do not leave his. She can feel the heat from him from where she stands. Something constricts tightly in her chest and she begins to feel a tremble along her skin. His gaze is dark and intent on hers. It makes her mouth dry, makes her breath hitch deliciously.

"I didn't mean that the action got serious," she intones meaningfully. She surprises herself with the steadiness of her words.

Thane blinks questioningly, but he does not move from her proximity. It makes her brave.

She swallows and continues. "I meant me. How I…feel."

His gaze flickers briefly to her lips, but it is enough for her to catch, enough for her body to hum in anticipation.

"Siha." His voice is low, full of caution and yearning and danger all at once.

She thrills at the sound of it. Her hand rises to brush along the ridges of his throat, her fingers gliding along the rough skin there and she swears she hears her heart thudding against her ribcage. She can feel him swallow tightly beneath her fingers and her mouth opens slightly, anxious and riveted, her eyes fixed to the sight of her touch along his skin. Her fingers dip lower to graze his collar bone. "Am I out of line?"she whispers breathlessly, heatedly.

His hand is grasping her wrist suddenly, stopping the trail of her touch before she can reach his chest. Her eyes snap up to his.

He is still, his muscles taut and coiled. His breath is heavy and labored as he watches her. "You are my commander…"

Shepard blinks. Pulls a slow breath in and turns her gaze from his. She licks her lips shakily and moves to pull her wrist from his hold. "I understand." She is flooded with shame as she turns to leave the room. "I didn't-"

She is pulled back sharply before she can finish and his breath is flooding her mouth, his lips urgent on hers. She feels the wall against her back suddenly as he moves into her, his hands holding her face to his, his body tight and flush against hers.

She has only a moment of confusion before one hand is fisting in his collar and pulling him closer to her, her other reaching to brace against the back of his neck. Her lips move instinctually against his, slick and soft. She arches into him and feels his groan vibrate through her own body. She trembles against him.

He must pull from her before he is lost, levels his forehead against hers and tries to reign in his breathing. She blinks in confusion momentarily, breathing heavily with him, bunching her fingers in his coat, feeling his hands grip her hair tightly.

"You are my commander.." he repeats. But this time, his voice is dark and husky, a rumbling desire against her lips and she shudders beneath him. His eyes are fixed on her own green ones, and there is a spine-tingling promise in them, a dangerous ache in the dark orbs. One hand moves from cradling her face and toward her mouth, his fingers grazing her lips as his eyes trace the movement. "And the first move was not mine to make."

She cannot breathe.

He rubs a thumb along her bottom lip and watches as she tentatively peeks her tongue out to graze his fingers. He closes his eyes at the sight and pulls a deep, steadying breath in, something low and guttural falling from his lips.

"And now?" she breathes, reaching one hand to run along the bare skin bared by his open coat.

His hand tightens in her hair and he pushes into her, his hips fixing her to the wall behind her. "Now you are not my commander." It is almost a growl, and the sound makes her sigh keenly against his fingers.

He pulls his hand from her mouth and replaces it with his own.

They move together, instinctually, passionately, dangerously.

Shepard knows now that she can never regret this life.


	9. Desperately and Daily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If he were a better version of himself, he thinks he might feel remorse." - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

Sheparding Men

Chapter Nine: Desperately and Daily

" _If he were a better version of himself, he thinks he might feel remorse." -_ A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

Miranda looks up from her terminal at the sound of her cabin door opening. Shepard stands before her desk, her lips pursed in thought, hands held behind her back as she rocks on her heels. "Got a minute, Miranda?"

"Of course, Commander." Miranda taps a few keys and saves the report she was working on, her terminal going blank before her. She turns in her seat to motion toward the couch against the window. Shepard follows her to the couch and pulls her feet up underneath her when she sits, slinging an arm over the back.

Miranda sits across from her and leans with her elbows along her knees, her hands held before her. "What's on your mind?" She is all business and stoicism, ready for more questions on Cerberus. The Commander's unwavering suspicion and distrust had grated on Miranda at first, her exasperated cries of defense for Cerberus only earning her a quiet, musing frown from Shepard. Slowly, though, she had begun to respect the woman's hardness and skepticism. After all, Miranda was hardly believing of the commander herself when the Illusive Man first put forward the proposal for the Lazarus Project. And Shepard had proven herself to be a natural leader, if not somewhat doom-and-gloom. Miranda could hardly blame her though, death and resurrection and all. In the end, Shepard was determined, ruthless, resilient. Always unflinching in a firefight. Always her crew first. Always worth following. Always, _always,_ a haunting, painful mix of woman and soldier.

Miranda is loath to admit she actually _likes_ the woman.

Shepard rolls the words along her tongue before speaking. "I have a question. About the Lazarus project. And me, really. My body, I mean."

Miranda nods. It is not the first they've spoken of Shepard's wary suspicion of how exactly she was put back together. "Of course."

Shepard glances out the window for a moment and swallows.

Miranda furrows her brow. If she hadn't known the woman better she might have called her look nervous.

"Am I…" Shepard begins. She sighs, grumbles and looks to Miranda. "Am I all good 'down there'?"

Miranda blinks in confusion momentarily. She opens her mouth to ask further, but only cocks her head in question.

Shepard blows an exasperated breath through her lips, already frustrated with her initial embarrassment. They were both women, after all. This shouldn't be as awkward as she's making it out to be. She moves her arm from the back of the couch and uses her hands to motion. "Everything's right in the sexy bits? No warped vagina or missing tubes or…anything _wrong_ with me sexually?"

Miranda sets her brow in a furrow, her hands still held between her knees as she leans in her seat. "You're asking if all your reproductive processes are still functioning properly? As they used to?"

"Yes." Shepard nods succinctly.

Miranda cannot help the slow smile spreading across her face, even as Shepard narrows her eyes at the operative. "You're fine, Shepard," she laughs softly. "All systems go in the sex department."

"Good." Shepard nods a little too fervently and looks back out the window.

Miranda is still smiling wryly. "Any particular reason for this line of questioning?"

Shepard sighs and levels a look Miranda's way. "Just making sure before I decided to put it to use."

"Oh? So there's a candidate already?" Miranda leans back against the couch, chuckling.

"Of sorts," Shepard replies slowly, hesitantly.

"Of sorts," Miranda repeats, nodding. "Is he green by chance?" she teases. Miranda laughs at Shepard's silent glare. "I'm sorry, it's just…this is great."

Shepard rolls her eyes. "I'm sure." She sighs, crossing her arms. "Look, I'm not all that good at this 'girl talk' thing."

"Good. Then let's not have it. Have you read up on any cross-species reference material about the subject?"

Shepard opens her mouth to answer but is taken aback by the question.

Miranda smirks. "It's like this, Shepard. I don't do 'girl talk' either. 'Have you kissed him yet?' 'What's it like?' 'Ohh, scandalous!'," she mocks, her voice lilting in a comical girlish impersonation that Shepard can't help but laugh at. "But I suspect this is still new to you, and seeing as you're coming to me to make sure your body is still very much _yours_ in all those important aspects, then perhaps it might help for you to speak about this with someone. Like adults, and not swooning teenagers."

Shepard's smile grows wider with each word. "That sounds great."

Miranda eases into her couch cushion. "Then I'm all ears."

"So all my reactions and libido and everything will be the same right?"

"Yes. All the nerves have been repaired and adjusted to their previous conditions. Your sex drive and sensations will not feel any different than before."

"Can I still take the birth control I was using before?"

Miranda nods. "We carry the preventative shot in the med-bay. Chawkas should be able to administer it at any time."

"And…will it do any damage to my uterus? Now that it's been reconstructed and everything?" Shepard wonders why the question is even important to her. She knows Thane could never even get her pregnant, their biology being too different for such a thing to occur. She's not expecting to have children anytime soon. When she thinks on it, she realizes she doesn't expect to have children at all in this life. Beside the chance of not even surviving long enough to actually _have_ them, she questions her potential as anyone's mother. She wouldn't wish herself on any child. But having the chance, the possibility, knowing that the choice could still be hers, in some future she's too scared to even dream could exist, is important to her. It's important and she doesn't understand why.

Miranda's gaze softens. "Nothing in our tests has shown there to be any risk to your reproductive health."

Shepard stops for a moment, a flash of recollection lighting in her memory. She taps a finger along her arm and watches the woman before her.

Miranda lifts a brow at her. "What?"

Shepard pulls a slow breath in. "Can you…I mean, if you don't want me to ask then say so but…"

The light playful glint to Miranda's eyes slowly dulls as understanding washes over her. She swallows tightly and keeps her eyes fixed on Shepard. "Can I have kids myself?"

Shepard remembers Miranda's words in Okeer's lab, the operative's hand on the glass tank holding Grunt, something knowing and painful and familiar in her words.

_"He is still burdened, restricted, still a slave to something out of his control."_

Miranda keeps her eyes steady on her commander. "No. I'm barren. My father made sure of that."

_"Our offspring are the bearers of our legacies. Our children's children may remember us. If we so choose. And 'choice' is the very action that defines freedom."_

Shepard thinks she knows a little something about choice and freedom. Thinks she knows a little something about pain and resentment and life beyond your control. But all she can say is "I'm sorry". It seems stupid and useless and so, so common. Shepard shakes her head at the thought. "No," she corrects, and Miranda raises her brows at that. "I mean 'fuck him'. Fuck him and fuck that. If Cerberus can bring me back from death, who's to say you can't get a working uterus?"

Miranda cannot help the warmth that blossoms inside her at the words. She is surprised at the chuckle that falls from her lips. It's so simple.

Shepard watches her silently.

Miranda nods gratefully to the commander and rubs a hand down her arm. "Thank you." She finds the sentiment easy and natural. "Enough about that depressing mush," she shakes off. A mischievous smile spreads across her face and Shepard eyes her warily. "Have you kissed him yet?"

Shepard laughs.

* * *

Samara turns to Shepard and eyes her with a determined, steady look. "There are innocents inside, Shepard. We cannot abandon them to one man's lust for vengeance."

Another explosion sounds behind them from the Zorya factory.

Zaeed whirls on the two women and growls. "I'm not letting that bastard get away. Vido needs to die. By my hand. And he's going to be screaming like a little girl when it happens." The fuming mercenary turns to continue following Vido Santiago and the other Blue Suns.

Samara is unfazed by Zaeed's outburst, her voice cool and level when she addresses Shepard. "If you should put me in a position that conflicts with my Code, then I may have to kill you once I am released from my oath."

Shepard cannot help the dark chuckle that escapes her. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time I died."

Samara cocks a brow at the other woman, her submachine gun hoisted in the air at the ready.

Shepard rubs her hand down her face and grumbles at Zaeed's retreating form. "I'm not leaving the workers, Samara. Don't worry. I'll deal with Zaeed."

Samara nods gratefully, her biotics flaring blue around her as she pulls the beams from the ceiling with her power and crashes them down into Zaeed's path, blocking his advance further. He raises his arm to shield his face from the debris. Flames whip mercilessly around them.

"What in the _fucking_ hell are you doin', woman?" Zaeed's angry bellow resonates even through the wailing alarm of the burning factory as he whips around to the two women standing in the entrance behind him.

Shepard cocks her rifle to rest over her shoulder and points a free hand down the hallway beside her, a slow, challenging smirk pulling at her lips. "This way, jackass."

* * *

Shepard is embarrassed by her own giddiness at the thought of Thane seeing her in the dress Kasumi had picked out for Donovan Hock's party. But it doesn't stop her from dropping by Life Support just before hitting the hanger with Kasumi. It doesn't stop her from curling a hand into the front of his coat and pulling him to her. It doesn't stop the thrilling tremble that spreads across her skin when his hand moves against the bare skin of her thigh.

* * *

It isn't until she's watching Kasumi running through flash images of Keiji's memories on the graybox that something begins to gnaw at her. Something deep and inevitable. Something she hadn't thought about for a long time. Something she hadn't _wanted_ to think about.

Kasumi reaches a hand to the holographic image before her and finds her fingers bleeding through a hollow memory. Her fingers clench into a fist and she turns her hooded face to Shepard. There is the faint shimmer of a tear trail down the thief's shadowed cheek, and the shaky exhale of breath leaving her lips. "Please, Shepard, I need you to destroy the graybox."

Shepard watches the thief and doesn't know why it should hurt so much.

Kasumi swallows at the soft hovering voice of Keiji filling the room. She closes her eyes. "I won't be strong enough to do it myself."

It isn't until now that Shepard finally lets the sinking realization pull at her thoughts.

It isn't until now that Shepard feels that cold, lump of dread begin to fester in her gut.

It isn't until now that Shepard remembers.

Everyone dies.

* * *

Shepard has her finger pressed to the comm. link along her cabin console. "EDI," she calls, shrugging her jacket off and letting it drop to the floor.

"Yes, Shepard?" The AI's voice fills the commander's cabin and Shepard releases the button on her communication console.

Shepard moves to the armor set beside her bed. "Alert the shuttlebay engineers to ready for departure to Pragia. I want an explosives technician on site when I get down there."

"Of course, Shepard."

"And connect me to the Engineering sub-deck."

"Done, Shepard."

Shepard pulls the chestplate of her armor off its rack and hears the slight fuzziness that indicated an open line. "Jack," she calls.

There is the rustling of movement as Shepard imagines Jack moving from her bunk to the console on the wall, slamming a hand onto the answering button. "What?" she snaps.

"Grab your gear and head to the shuttlebay. You still want to blow Teltin up?" She smirks as she begins strapping on her armor.

"Fuck yeah!" she hears through the comm.. "'Bout time we blew that bitch up!"

Shepard shakes her head. She is about to ask EDI to patch her into Life Support when she stops, hands stilled along the straps against her ribs. Pragia would be soaking wet. Damp and humid and certainly not good for Thane's lungs. Slowly, she closes the latch to her chestplate along her side, the soft _click_ resounding in the quiet room.

That's right, she thinks.

Everyone dies.

Shepard swallows tightly, clears her throat. "EDI, get me Grunt."

"Of course, Shepard."

* * *

She is standing before Jacob in the armory, her arms crossed, leaning back against the weapons bench behind her. "You had something you wanted to speak about?" She half expects him to voice another disapproval of her recent actions, readies herself for another scathing remark, takes in a deep breath of preparation.

She doesn't expect the tight clench of his jaw, how his gaze looks anywhere but at hers. He moves around the weapons bench to the other side so that she must turn to follow his movement. Jacob's fingers grip at the edge of the table, his body coiled tightly in a hesitance and deep-buried anger Shepard cannot recognize. His voice is gruff and low when he speaks, colored with something ancient and longing that Shepard finds familiar in the deepest parts of her. "It's my father."

Shepard blinks in silent and unreadable surprise as he describes the situation, the distress beacon, the forwarding of the notice to his channel, the believed fate of the Gernsback and the disappearance of his father all those years ago. She keeps her arms crossed, keeps her questions terse and to the point and keeps him steady before her with a single look.

Jacob's fingers flex over the table in front of him, and he swallows tightly before continuing. "It's not nearly a priority, I know. But seeing as you've helped other squadmates with certain…personal...issues, I thought maybe…" There is nothing disapproving in his comment of her sidetracking for the crew. No condemnation of all these side missions taking them further from the IFF. No mention of his previous upset with her commands.

Shepard watches him silently.

Jacob stands and crosses his arms, clenches them tight against his chest as though they will hold back the stem of chaotic emotions pulling within him. He clears his throat. "I'm sorry, Commander. It was an inappropriate request. Forget I mentioned it." He moves to walk back to his station when Shepard's hand on his arm stops him. He looks up to find her face a mix of knowing and painful admission.

"Give EDI the coordinates, Taylor. We'll make a stop." She releases her hold of his arm but does not relinquish her gaze.

She doesn't know what it is that makes her agree. She doesn't even like him, can barely stand to bring him along on missions even when she knows his skills are best suited. But it has nothing to do with the way she may feel about him. Nothing to do with the brusque and frustrated words between them. Nothing to do with the steady aversion breeding in the air around them.

The way he said "father".

Something clenches harshly in her chest and she wonders what it must be like to say the word so. With equal mix longing and resentment. With the dreaded hope of actually finding him.

Shepard cannot remember hers. Not her real father anyway. In and out of foster homes all over Earth. The idea of "father" only comes to her in flashes of buried memories. Greedy fingers and neglected glances. That is the only way she knows how to remember "father".

But when Jacob says it, it makes something yearn inside her that she thought she let go of years ago. Something that reminds her that there are men like Anderson in the galaxy. And she thinks she knows why Jacob would need this. Something lingering inside that will never stop looking for answers, never stop curling in on itself in child-like need.

The way Jacob cannot look at her when she says it.

Shepard nods and moves to leave the armory.

Jacob stands in the same spot for several moments before he remembers to breathe.

* * *

"This is not the man I remember," Jacob breathes harshly, defensively, to Shepard beside him as his father stands several feet from them, rubbing his neck in a nonchalant, impatient manner.

Shepard turns to Jacob and finds his eyes adamant on hers. Like he needs her to believe him. He needs her to know. This is not the man he went searching for.

She doesn't know why it should matter to him that she believes it. Doesn't know why her opinion should still matter to him. But somewhere, buried beneath the pride and outspokenness and stubborn spirit, what she thinks of him seems to actually _matter_. She starts at the idea.

Jacob does not even look at his father. His eyes are all for Shepard, pleading and forceful in a desperate way she's sure he's not even aware of. And Shepard realizes she will not leave Jacob with this memory of a father to haunt him at night.

She loads a single heat sink in her Carnifex pistol and hands it to Jacob, makes sure to hold the pistol tight in both their grips between them. "Your choice, Taylor," she says to her officer. "We can leave him to the justice of this world he created, bring him in to ours or…" She pushes the pistol further into his grip and lets it lay there in his palm, heavy and burning of bitterness. She keeps her eyes on his. "It's up to you. I'll make sure to take full responsibility in my report, whatever your choice."

Jacob releases a slow, quaking breath as he weighs the gun in his hand. His voice is lodged heavy in his throat for a moment before the words scrape themselves out. "Thank you, Commander."

His father looks between them questioningly. "So? Are we getting off this rock?"

Jacob flares his nostrils and turns to the stranger before him, his hand holding the pistol out toward him, grip out. "We're leaving. You're not. You might need this." His words are low and laced with a regret too far buried for him to feel in this moment.

The older man looks at the Carnifex questioningly but takes it without hesitance. Tali's face is unseen behind her mask before she turns to walk away knowingly. Shepard follows shortly after, noting the slow enclosing of the feral men around the senior Taylor's camp.

Jacob's father looks the gun over and turns his confused gaze to the son he lost years ago. "It's only got one bullet. How am I supposed to take these guys out with one bullet?" His tone is suddenly frantic.

Jacob's gaze flicks to several of the wild men stalking into the camp, eyes greedy and vengeful and promising of blood. If he were a better version of himself, he thinks he might feel remorse. But when he turns to his false father, there is only disappointment and anger and a grief that spans long years of disillusioned abandonment. His voice is a dark promise when he speaks, and something blinks out into blackness somewhere inside him. "It's not for them."

Jacob lets the sentiment settle in the air around them for a moment before he turns from the sight of his father's slack jaw, his fearful and wide eyes.

Later, when Shepard hears the single, far off gunshot, and Jacob steps into their camp, eyes downcast and heavy with quiet shame, she does not ask him if he is alright. She only raises his chin with her hand for a moment, lets him read her gaze with shambled thoughts, and then urges him into the shuttlecraft.

He nods silently, the words festering uselessly in his throat.

* * *

Shepard smiles and sighs as she gazes up at the speeding cars of Illium. Everything is bright and quick and breathing of a life she might have lived in different times.

* * *

Liara slams against the door of their hover car as they race through the airways after the rogue Spectre Vasir. " _Ow!_ " she stresses meaningfully, rubbing her arm as their cab shook again under Shepard's controls and she glared at the woman beside her.

Shepard snorts next to her. "You've taken worse, T'Soni. Suck it up," she laughs.

Liara looks back out the virtual windshield at Vasir's speeding getaway car. "There's not much in this galaxy worse than your driving, Shepard," the asari grumbles beside her.

Shepard only chuckles. "At least this thing maneuvers better than a Mako."

Tali groans in the backseat, one hand holding tightly to the handle on the door, the other on her belly. "I think I'm going to be sick."

* * *

Liara is stalking away in fierce determination once the information is downloaded from Vasir's omni-tool. The other Spectre's words linger in the air around them. Shepard is still crouched down, her eyes on the slumped and dead form of Vasir.

_"You want to judge me? Look in the mirror."_

Something about those words makes the bile rise in Shepard's throat, makes her clench her jaw in tight denial. She shakes her head, the words hot and ringing in her mind, as she turns to walk away.

Something unfamiliar and wary catches in her chest when she sees the back of Liara, angry and forceful and vicious. She doesn't want this.

"Liara, where are you going?" She jogs up behind the asari.

"We only have a little time to get to the Shadow Broker's ship before he discovers his location is compromised. That means Feron's life is ticking down even now." There is a painful hollowness to her words that Shepard has never heard before.

"I know, but calm it down, Liara. We'll get there."

"'Calm it down'?" she repeats incredulously, turning her gaze for Shepard to catch the twisting sneer along her mouth. It almost stops her in her tracks. "Feron gave his life for me. For me to help get _you_ back! We owe him a little more than 'calm'."

Anger flares in Shepard at her words. And she's not sure why. Not sure if it's because Liara is implying that Shepard could be ungrateful for such an act, or whether it's because she thinks Liara should know by now how she feels about being brought back. It wasn't her choice. And she'd be damned to feel indebted to _anyone_ for something that tears at her heart in the emptiness at night. Regardless, Shepard is not one to leave a friend in trouble. She grinds her teeth and reaches a hand to grab Liara's elbow, stopping her in her stride. "Hold the fuck up, Liara," she growls. "Now, we'll get to the Broker but whatever this is that you've got going on, it needs to stop. Now."

Liara whirls on her and her eyes are angrier than Shepard has ever seen, especially to be directed at her. It doesn't make her back down though. If anything, it makes her more sure.

"So just get over it?" she spits. "That easy, huh? Sorry I'm not as unfeeling as you, oh great Commander Shepard." Her words are tight as they seethe through her lips, her eyes already lined with hot tears.

Shepard blinks at the words and shakes the asari's elbow in her grip. "What the fuck is going on, Liara? You know I don't do 'cryptic'. If you've got something to say to me then you damn well better get to saying it, or you're on your own on this one." She knows it is an empty threat. As angry as she is with Liara's recent distance and snappy remarks, she'd go to the Veil and back for the woman. But she's hoping Liara won't call her on her bluff.

Liara sniffs loudly, lifting her chin as she shakes her arm from Shepard's hold. "I know you hate that I brought your body to Cerberus. I know that you resent me for it, even if you won't say it aloud."

Shepard opens her mouth to retort but Liara steps closer, a finger raised in the air to stop her words. "Don't try to deny it. Save us both the humility of _that_ lie, please." Her voice is shaking, her eyes never leaving Shepard's.

Shepard clamps her mouth shut and there is something in Liara's eyes that softens in mild surprise, and then hardens in disappointment.

Liara swallows and continues. "Shepard, believe me when I say that causing you even more pain was never what I had in mind. Had I known that you…that you would hate me for it…" She trails off and has to grip her arms, cradle in on herself, her mouth trembling.

Shepard can only shake her head, only let her mouth hang open in a stupid, pointless attempt at words that refuse to come. "I don't…I could never…" Hate was the furthest thing she could feel for Liara. How could she not know? How could she not _know_?

Liara drops her gaze for a moment, and Shepard is suddenly hit with the memory of Liara standing over her mother's body, tears pooling in her eyes that she refused to shed, her hands clenched in shaking fists at her sides.

She remembers Liara singing in a broken voice, her words lilting with the promise of a reunion that she yearned for in the solace of her heart.

She remembers that Liara is also no stranger to loss.

The asari's voice is low and aching between them. "I didn't bring you back because the galaxy needed you. You'd done enough for them. They had no right to demand more." She stops and raises her eyes to Shepard. "And I didn't bring you back because _I_ needed you. Even though I did. Desperately. And daily." Her words shake as the first tears slide from her eyes.

Shepard swallows down that sharp slice of shame. She reaches a hand to Liara's arm to pull her closer and the other woman lets her. They move to stand before each other, their foreheads resting against each other's, Shepard's fingers clenching tightly to Liara's arm as she closes her eyes and pulls a ragged breath in.

Liara tries to steady her breathing and continues. "I did it because…because I thought _you_ needed it. Because I didn't think anyone else in the galaxy deserved more than you. And to end…like _that_." She squeezes her eyes shut to the memory, hurtling through space above the planet Alchera in an escape pod, images of an exploding Normandy coming in flashes through the tiny window. The horror and disbelief and sharp branding pain in her heart that she didn't think she'd ever forget, even should she live to see thousands more die. She hiccups in between tears.

Shepard starts to breathe soft hushing sounds to her.

"It was so _wrong_ , Shepard. So…wrong. And I had to make it right. I had to do whatever I could, because if anyone in this world is worth it, it's you." She opens her eyes and pulls her head back enough to lock gazes with Shepard. "It's you." Her words end on the break of her voice and her face is crumbling in pain just a moment before Shepard wraps her arms around her and holds her tightly to her.

Liara curls her fingers into fists against the cool material of Shepard's armor and cries into her shoulder.

Shepard holds a hand to Liara's head as she keeps her face tucked into her shoulder, her other gripping the woman's back. She gulps down a heavy breath and whispers over and over "I'm sorry." She wonders if it will ever be enough.

Liara shudders and sobs against her.

"For the longest time," Shepard begins, her voice a harsh, ragged breath between them, "I didn't want this life, that's true. And I didn't…I didn't know how to be anything but _angry_ and bitter and just…just dead again," she sighs. "I just wanted to be dead again."

Liara tries to shake her head but she is still caught in Shepard's embrace, still leaking warm tears onto her shoulder guard.

"But not anymore." Her voice is steady this time, louder, full of something that sings of a future she thinks might still be possible. "I promise, not anymore. I want this. I want this life, Liara." She pulls from the asari and reaches a hand to raise her chin, catches her blue eyes with her own greenish-brown ones. "I _want_ this life. And you gave it back to me."

Liara's face crumbles once more but there is the slight quiver of a laugh along her lips. She reaches to brush at her eyes, Shepard's hand falling from her chin. Shepard lets her wipe at her cheeks, whispering "I'm sorry" quietly.

Shepard cannot help her laugh. "Christ, Liara, stop fucking apologizing. You didn't do anything wrong."

Liara chuckles again, drawing in a deep breath and straightening herself. "Goddess, I'm embarrassing myself." She sniffles softly.

Shepard raises a brow. "Yeah, good thing my armor's waterproof. I might have drowned otherwise."

Liara smacks the commander's arm, a chuckle catching in her throat where the tears have still left her raw.

There is a quiet moment between them, broken only by Liara's occasional sniffles to control her tears. There is something knowing and accepting and breathing of tender pain passed between them. Something that reminds Shepard of all that she still has to live for.

Liara cocks her head in question, her still-wet eyes curious on Shepard. "What changed?" she breathes quietly.

Shepard takes a beat to think. Her mind is filled with images of dark eyes and rough green skin, of breathy words and a voice that curls like smoke around her consciousness. Her smile is slow and hesitant. "Someone got to me."

Liara's brows rise.

Shepard sighs and finds the sentiment nestled somewhere in a protective, desperate harbor in her heart. "Someone persistent and passionate and…" She breathes slowly, closes her eyes as something warm fills her chest. Feels the pressure of his lips to her neck in faint remembrance, and the exhilaration that lights within her at the motion. "And alive," she finishes, her eyes opening to catch Liara's enthralled ones. "Someone who understands the precious little time we're granted in this stupid, vast universe."

Liara finds her smile tugging at her lips and her hand held tight to her chest. She looks at Shepard in marvelous wonder.

* * *

"Shepard!"

She turns at the call of her name from Liara and finds the asari jogging after her as she headed for the exit of the Shadow Broker's lair.

Liara stops just before her. "I meant to tell you, before this whole mess." She motions around the room, the Shadow Broker tech recently turned to Liara's possession whirling and calculating around them. "Garrus contacted me recently."

Shepard furrows her brows but stays silent for Liara to continue.

Liara's face tells of something Shepard is hesitant to ask about. "He wanted information on a man named 'Sidonis'. I helped him. Thought at first that he was seeking information to help you out but I think…" She trails off.

Shepard clenches her jaw tight. "Sidonis was the man who betrayed his team on Omega and got them all killed."

Liara purses her lips in thought for a moment, her hands wringing themselves. "I think he has some pretty cold vengeance in mind."

"I think you're right."

Liara puts a hand on Shepard's arm and her eyes are imploring suddenly. "Help him, please."

Shepard wants to believe that Liara means to ask her to help Garrus turn from such a bloody vendetta. But she stops at the thought. Hadn't this whole Shadow Broker business started as Liara's lust for revenge? Sure, it turned into a rescue mission. And there was no way around killing the Shadow Broker when it meant all their freedoms were at stake, as well as Feron's. But if Feron had died would Liara sill have gone after the Shadow Broker, with only death in mind? Would she have let her? Would she have _helped_ her?

Shepard looks at Liara's eyes and wonders how two years can mean so much. How two years can still pull her so far from those she knew. From those she loved.

_"You want to judge me? Look in the mirror."_

Shepard feels that warm, sickening bile rising in her throat once more.

She imagines Garrus' eyes, dark and hardened and demanding blood.

She feels something sink, heavy and unreachable, inside of her.

What have they become?


	10. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She wishes he was free. Free from this. Free even from her. And she knows what she must do." - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

Sheparding Men

Chapter Ten: Release

" _She wishes he was free. Free from this. Free even from her. And she knows what she must do." -_ A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

Garrus is already waiting just outside her cabin door when Shepard returns to the Normandy. She exits the elevator to find him leaning against the wall across from her. He tries to smile at her presence but she knows him well enough to recognize the tight clench of his jaw, the minute flex of his mandibles that tells her the words are festering in him even now. He pushes off of the wall to greet her.

"Shepard, welcome back. How's Liar-"

"Don't," she says simply. She stops just outside the elevator, does not invite him, does not even move to enter the cabin herself. She simply stands before him, arms steady at her side as she sighs.

Garrus eyes her questioningly, though something inside him whispers of her knowing. "Shepard, I'm only-"

"Show me the courtesy of _not_ delving into small talk when you want to brace me for something." She huffs, her arms crossing. "We know each other better than that."

Garrus falls silent. She knows. And he cannot be sure of what she will do with that knowledge. He had gone to her cabin in the hopeful expectance of her help. He swallows tightly and watches her now. Somehow, he begins to wonder if it will be so easy. His eyes search hers momentarily before he speaks, a resigned sigh that sags his shoulders with the breath. "I suppose we do."

Shepard purses her lips in thought, her fingers flexing against her arms as they lay crossed over her chest. "Why are you here, Garrus?" She takes a step closer, looks up into his face, her eyes impeaching and demanding all at once. Her voice is softer this time, yielding. "What do you need?"

Garrus looks at her when she says it. _Need_. The way she expresses in that one simple word her willingness to answer that need. Her offer of herself in silent, unexplainable ways that make the words tight in his throat. He swallows back that heavy slice of disquiet and tries to answer her. "I need your help."

Shepard sighs, her eyes never leaving his. "To kill Sidonis?" There is something sad in her voice that neither of them can recognize fully.

Garrus' eyes are hard and unflinching then. "Yes."

Shepard moves a hand up to rub at her face. "Unarmed? In cold blood?"

Garrus is suddenly flushed with remembrance, his words tight and hollow as he speaks next. "He deserves worse."

Shepard eyes him lowly. "What he deserves is not the question here. The question, is should you be the one to deal it?"

His chest rises with barely contained rage. "Who else has he so wronged? How can you even ask me that? How can you not want this bastard gutted?"

Shepard's eyes flash. "Do not presume to know what I want, Garrus. Of course I want him dead too, but not at the cost of your sanity, not at the cost of your integrity."

Garrus almost scoffs, and it is enough to light a flash of surprise and anger within her. She narrows her eyes as she watches him speak. "There can be no such integrity when it concerns Sidonis." He spits the turian's name like a curse, like poison along his tongue.

This is not the Garrus she remembers.

"If you cannot find the strength in you to do what is right by my men," he continues, "then I will do so alone. I'm requesting leave from the Normandy." He hates himself for saying it but even she cannot stop him from avenging those men. Those men who laughed and ached and bled with him. Those men who were the only solace in a world left without her. How can she not know? How can she not know what that means to him? His breath quakes in his chest.

Shepard snarls at his words, the resentment hot and spitting between them, a finger raised to jab him in the chest. "It has nothing to do with my wanting his blood and everything to do with my not wanting it on _your_ hands."

His mandibles flex swiftly as his hands curl into fists at his side. "It is not your choice to make."

Shepard stops at that. She grinds her teeth in frustration but does not answer him. She wants to shake him, wants to scream her resistance in his face but she cannot deny him this. She cannot deny him this choice that is rightly his. She does not wish this on Garrus. But more importantly, she does not wish to _control_ Garrus. She knows firsthand the rage that takes root when you are someone else's puppet. She knows firsthand the darkness that can anchor itself inside him if his life is no longer his to live.

But she is afraid he might be slipping.

Afraid she will not be able to reach him again should he do this, not be able to touch him again.

She growls lowly, running a hand roughly through her loose dark curls, and she snaps dangerously at him. "Then you will have me." She stares heavily at him.

Garrus finds the slow breath of relief light in his chest. But the way she looks at him, her eyes promise that this relief is only short-lived. This vengeful bloodlust will only sate him for so long. And when it wanes, if she is still watching him with those eyes, if she is still waiting in righteous anger for him, then he thinks he might not be able to bear it.

He needs her in this with him.

He needs her.

* * *

Shepard storms into Life Support where Thane is sitting at his usual spot, meditating, only to be blinking up in surprise at her huffing presence before him. He unfurls his fingers from their hold over the desk. "Siha," he breathes in greeting.

His voice alone is almost enough to calm her growing anger.

Almost.

"It's Garrus," she growls in answer to his unasked question, starting to pace before him.

Thane is quiet for long moments as he lets her reign in her breathing and her thoughts. Quiet as he watches her pace in righteous fury. There is something desperate and grieving to her movements, something she will not voice, something slowly being drowned by the rage. She has always been quick to anger, even when she hurts for it.

"He wants my help to kill Sidonis."

Thane only blinks at her, unsurprised.

"That stupid, _stubborn_ turian." She stalks across the room heatedly. "I mean, God do I want Sidonis to suffer. I want to pull the trigger myself most days but Garrus…" She slows, wrings her hands before her and shakes her head. Her long tangled curls bunch around her shoulders and she violently pushes the strands back, beginning her pacing once more. "This is consuming him. Just festering inside until there's nothing left and it will kill him. It will _kill_ him. This hate. It's not going to stop, even if he kills Sidonis. It's not ever going to stop and I don't know how to tell him. I don't know how to tell him that blood _never_ makes it better."

She squeezes her eyes harshly shut. Remembers all the lives she has taken, all the calls she has made, all the triggers she's pulled that have ended one life or another. Halted someone's breath that cannot be brought back. And she knows what that does on the inside. She knows the harshness it breeds, the self-hate and regret. She has never taken a life in cold blood, it's true. Never taken aim at someone who wasn't already preparing to kill her themselves. But it doesn't make death any less bearable. It doesn't make her proud to kill. It doesn't do anything but make the nights long and the days empty. And the only way she does not drown in it is because of those she surrounds herself with. And because it means those around her will not have to live with it themselves. The hard choices. The irreversible calls.

Standing on the bridge of the Normandy and listening to Ash pull in terrified, blood-soaked cries.

Shepard shakes her head and stops to look past the glass of the Life Support window, watching the slow churning and humming vibrations of the Tantalus drive core. Her face is turned from Thane but her slowly curling and uncurling fists at her side tell him enough. She takes a long slow breath before turning back to him. Her brows are furrowed in aching indecision. She swallows tightly, moves to take a seat before him. "I'm sorry," she sighs. As she settles in her seat and looks at him, she is suddenly struck by a thought.

Irikah. And her killers. Thane's own search for blood and revenge. Something clenches harshly inside her. She clamps her jaw tight.

Thane only pulls his elbows up to rest on the table, his hands grasping each other. He cocks his head. "It is not wrong to want to keep him from that kind of darkness."

Shepard opens her mouth to speak but finds herself flooding with shame. She only watches him in unease. Such a stupid, careless thought. To berate such action to a man who has seen and done what he has. She feels so small and ignorant in this moment. It only makes the anger hotter.

There is the slight quirk to his lip that surprises Shepard with its ease. "I admit I am not proud of the man I was becoming when I faced the same choice myself."

She decides to remain quiet, not to embarrass herself further with her thoughtlessness.

He sighs, turning his gaze just past her shoulder, lost somewhere else. A short, stunted intake of breath and then he is speaking as though from another time. "Shallow, jagged cuts. Blood pooling in slow-drying streams. He cries. Voice broken between pain and fear. Eyes wide and unblinking. 'Is this how she cried?' He shakes his head, convulses. My blade is slick and warm with his blood. 'Is this how she begged you to stop?' He screams." Thane blinks and shakes his head, the recollection slipping back into a part of his mind he hates some days.

Shepard feels undeserving of the memory he has just lapsed into. She grips her hands tightly together on the desk, looks down to watch the slight quake of her fingers. Something unknowable moves within her.

"I am sorry," he offers softly.

Shepard's head whips up to watch him questioningly.

"That was not…how I wish for you to know me." He does not look at her when he says it.

"No," she begins quickly, one hand moving to grasp at his across from her. "I don't…I could never think any less of you, Thane." She surprises even herself with the admission, with her own eagerness to touch him, to reach him, to keep him constant and desperately by her side.

Thane moves his hand so that they are linking fingers between them, watches the slow twining of their touch with a heavy and fixed gaze. "You and I…we know how to carry such burdens. And it is not wrong to want others to be free of that."

Shepard sighs, rubs a thumb over the smooth green skin along the back of his hand. "I don't…it's not my place to tell him what to do, how to feel. How to…handle grief." She thinks back to the heavy, trembling embrace she shared with Kaidan the night of Ashley's death.

 _"You cannot tell me how to feel, Kaidan. It does not mean that I_ don't _feel."_

Thane's words bring her back to the present. "It is not grief he is handling. It is rage. Regret. Helplessness But not grief. You do not handle grief with violence. That is something you do in the privacy of your own heart. Something he has not had the chance to release yet."

Shepard watches him breathlessly. His touch is warm and soothing.

"Perhaps, without even realizing it himself, he _needs_ you to stop him. To allow him to grieve. As he could not before."

She pulls a shaky breath in, releases a short and disbelieving chuckle. "How do you do it?"

He cocks his head in question.

She watches him with a steady, needful gaze, her mouth trembling slightly. "How do you settle me so easily? Make sense of this senseless world? How do you make everything seem alright when I know it can't be?" She turns her gaze from him, grips his hand tighter. Her breath quakes within her. "God, everything's just so fucked up. So – _damn it_ , just –" She exhales sharply. "So unbelievably fucked up." She looks back up to him. "And then there's you. And I don't know how to reconcile this peace inside me when you're here, with this war that's tearing through our galaxy. Because it _is_ a war, really. Because I know it's coming. It has to be. It's inevitable. And yet somehow…God, how can you be so strong?" She swallows tightly and stops, hating the hot tears lining her lids already, the subtle break in her voice.

Thane is rising from his seat and moving around the desk toward her. He pulls her to her feet with a gentle tug of their joined hands. She wipes a hand down her face, clearing her throat, as she feels herself being pressed to his chest. His arms snake loosely around her waist and his breath is warm and steady and right against her cheek. Her fingers curl shakily into his coat and she grips him tightly to her. Grips him with an intensity and fear that threatens to overtake her.

His voice is low and soothing as it vibrates through her cheek. "We are never long for this world, siha. The waves come, and they go, and in the end, the ocean will always take us. But while we are here, I choose to walk with you."

Shepard shakes against him, the breath ragged and heavy in her chest.

He sighs, slides a hand slowly up her back to thread softly through her hair. "The knowledge that you also choose to walk with me, _that_ is my strength."

She feels her own smile, unconscious and hesitant, hidden against his shoulder.

"I know it will last me to the end of my days." His voice is suddenly low, shaky, laced with a painful, knowing ache. "Siha, the universe will remain. And life will go on." His grip on her tightens and she raises her eyes just enough to catch the quivering of his brow as he holds her. "It always does. But it is not wrong. Rather, it makes our time together that much more beautiful, that much more meaningful. I will not waste another moment of my life without the one I love."

Shepard's breath catches in her throat at his words. She pulls her head back just enough to meet his eyes. He loosens his hold on her to allow it, though he keeps one hand on her waist, the other in her hair. He does not let go of her. Does not move his gaze from her. Does not show anything but forthrightness and promise and heated determination. His dark eyes watch her unblinkingly and she knows. She _knows_ what he offers her with this. She knows that he understands what he risks.

And he risks it still.

Shepard leans her forehead against his, closes her eyes to the tremble of vulnerability that lights along her skin. One of her hands moves to rest along his cheek, her fingers soft and caressing along the smooth stretch of skin. She feels him sigh at the touch, his breath warm against her own lips, and she breathes in a sweet release herself.

Everything is peaceful and quiet and steady within her. Everything is right in the world when he holds her to him. Everything is _right_. She never knew she had been so lost until he found her.

She presses her lips softly against his, revels in their warmth, the way they move intrinsically and naturally against her own, the way he pours everything of himself into their embrace.

The way he loves her with his touch. Quietly and fully. Tenderly and fiercely. Without reservation. Without demand.

She smiles against his lips and sighs softly against him. "I do not want to be without the one I love either."

Thane's hand tightens in her hair, his fingers flexing against the nape of her neck. "Siha…" he breathes raggedly.

She is lost to him. "I do not want to be without _you_."

Thane's breath rises heavy in his chest, his throat tight with words he does not know how to express. He settles for his lips, slick and needy, against her own. Settles for the simplest and truest way he can tell her. "Then I am yours."

She kisses him back with all her aching passion, all her fearful desire, all her heated longing. All her desperate need to show him the wonders he stirs in her. To show him that she welcomes him fully.

And that she is his. Entirely.

* * *

There is a ruthlessness to Garrus she has never seen before when they are fighting through mechs and Blue Sun mercenaries in one of the Citadel's docking ports.. Some indescribable, quiet rage in every shot he takes, every power he emits from his omni-tool. Every downed enemy brings a haunting and dangerous smirk to his lips that makes Shepard question everything she has known about Garrus. Thane fights stoically beside them.

When they are moments from closing in on Harkin, Shepard finds the bloodlust in Garrus' eyes intensified. She swallows down the sharp slice of unease and continues on.

But in her heart she is screaming. Because this is not the Garrus she knows. This is not the Garrus she fights for. This is not the Garrus who laughs with her and anchors her and shelters her.

Garrus punches Harkin with a fierce rage, knocking him to the ground, his boot coming up quick and forceful against the man's throat.

Shepard makes her decision.

* * *

"Sidonis?" Shepard asks lowly, her eyes narrowed.

The turian before her is all wide eyes and twitchy hands. "Shh," he intones, almost whispering. "Don't use that name." When he says it, his eyes are suddenly downcast, his exhaling breath laced with a quiet shame that shakes Shepard to the core.

She swallows tightly, moves herself to stand closer to him, where she knows Garrus cannot get a shot of Sidonis with her in the way. Her fists clench at her sides and she knows there is no going back. "Garrus Vakarian has a sniper rifle trained on you right now and I am the only thing standing between your head and a very gruesome, much-deserved death." She says the words evenly, unflinchingly.

Sidonis sputters for a moment, taking a slow step back. Shepard follows, even as she hears Garrus' loud curse in her comm. link.

"What?" the turian, breathes, hands rising in the air like a surrender. "You're – you're joking. What is this?" He moves to walk away, his whole body tense and jerky. His voice is a heated whimper.

Shepard has to bury down her hate for this man if she is to save Garrus. She grasps his arm tightly and halts him. "Don't move," she grounds out. "Unless you want to die."

He stills at her words, swallows in barely held fear, his mandibles flexng in quick, frightened twitches.

"Shepard," Garrus growls in her ear. "What _the_ _fuck_ are you doing?"

She ignores him. Instead, she keeps her gaze intense on Sidonis. "Now, I want nothing more than to see your brains splattered across this floor, and I know Garrus wants that even more-"

"Then move!" he nearly shouts in her earpiece.

She grinds her teeth and continues. "But I value Garrus' life more than I value your death. And it will not be his life anymore if I let him kill you."

"Shepard, so help me-"

"No, Garrus," she barks, and Sidonis' eyes are frantically searching the high walkways farther past them. " _No_ ," she repeats heatedly, not moving from her position in front of Sidonis. "Stand down, Garrus."

She can hear him snarling in her comm. link and she hates that she has nurtured this inside of him.

Before her, Sidonis' shoulders sag and he drops his gaze to the floor. His arms are limp at his sides. "Just let him," he barely gets out, a break in his voice that tells Shepard he knows the heavy, biting ache of regret. "I'm dead already."

"Let me take the shot, Shepard," Garrus breathes lowly and dangerously in her ear. She does not listen.

She steps closer to Sidonis, grasping at his shirt collar, her fury tight and venomous in her words. "This is not about _you_ , Sidonis. I don't give a shit about you. But I won't let Garrus do something he'll regret. I won't let him walk around with this buried and festering in his heart for the rest of his life."

Sidonis does not fight her hold of him. His eyes search hers pleadingly. "I didn't…I didn't know what to do! They threatened me. Threatened to _kill_ me and I – I panicked. I was a coward. I…I don't…there's nothing I can say that will change any of this. That will bring them back." His eyes are wet with a painful regret, his body slumped against her, all but given up. "Just let him kill me."

"Gladly," Garrus growls into their comm. link.

Shepard shakes her head. "You did it to save yourself, right? So what will dying now achieve?" She is grasping at anything to make Garrus see. To make it clear to him why she must do this. "If you throw away your life like this than you really did betray those men. Your _comrades_." She spits the word. "Then they died for nothing. Then you might as well have died alongside them. But you didn't. You're here now. And so help me, I am going to make sure you don't ruin any more lives. Especially not Garrus'." She pulls in a steadying breath, tries to quell the dangerous pit of dread slowly building in her gut.

She does not care if Garrus will hate her for it. Does not care if it means she is dead to him. Because in the end, he will not have to live with this blood on his hands. Not him. She wishes he was free. Free from this.

Free even from her.

And she knows what she must do.

She closes her eyes for a short, bracing moment, hears the trembling and frightened breath of Sidonis before her. She opens her eyes to lock gazes with him as she speaks. She will not let him take Garrus' life as well. "Your life for the other ten, huh? I hope you enjoyed your prize." Her voice is dark and promising when she reaches her hand to her waist where her pistol rests comfortingly. The barrel is pressed to his temple before he can finish drawing breath. "Was it worth it?"

"Shepard!" she hears Garrus cry into the comm. link.

A shot rings out in the courtyard of the Citadel ward and everywhere there is screaming. The heavy pounding of footsteps as the crowd panics and flees is echoing loudly in Shepard's ears. She stands still before the slumped body of Sidonis on the ground at her feet. Her face is warm with the splash of his blue blood along her cheeks. Her pistol lays heavy in her grip, barrel smoking. The screaming eventually dies down into stillness and Shepard turns to Thane as he stands several feet behind her.

He is watching her silently.

Her breath catches harshly in her throat and she is shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes are suddenly flooded with tears she will not allow herself to shed. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. Nothing. Her chest feels tight and painful in ways she has never felt before. She looks up to the high rail past the empty courtyard and finds Garrus missing. She strains her ears to the sound of the comm. link, tries to listen to his curses or his shouts or even his angry, panting breathes.

There is nothing.

* * *

Shepard is standing with Thane by their hover car, his hand resting along the small of her back, her hand over her mouth as she watches the floor, when Garrus finally makes his way back to them. He storms onto the platform and they both look up to find him trembling in barely-contained rage. He stalks up to Shepard and points a finger into her face, his voice a dangerous warning she has never heard directed at her. "You had _no right_ , Shepard," he grinds out between sharp, clenched teeth. "No fucking right."

Thane's hand slips from her back as she moves away from him and closer to Garrus. Her eyes are firm and unflinching on his. It is everything she feels she is not. "I could not let you do it, Garrus." Her voice is softer than she would like.

Garrus scoffs and throws his hands in the air, walking away from her. His back is to her. She hates the image. "It wasn't your choice!" he yells. His voice is a raging thunder unlike anything she's heard before. "They were _my_ men. They were _my_ responsibility. It should have been _my_ kill." He whips back to her and his eyes are wild and focused on her. "Why? Why did you do it?"

Shepard swallows tightly and takes another step toward him. "I'm a Spectre. There won't be consequences like there would have been had you pulled the trigger."

Garrus scoffs again at her response. It's not untrue. But they both know it is deeper than that.

"And…" she begins, her voice steadying, "And because I could not bear the thought of you living with that regret."

Garrus stops before her, his fists clenched at his sides. "I would not have regretted it. Ever."

Shepard shakes her head. "That's not who you are."

"People change, Shepard. Two years will do a lot to change a man."

She is suddenly struck with the sting of those words, the silent, unknowing accusation laced behind them, the barely hidden sentiment that she had left him. She is flooded with anger at the thought. "And I would have been there with you, Garrus – you _know_ that – if I was alive those two years."

His voice is low and hollow when he speaks. "But you weren't. And I had to move on."

She takes another desperate step closer to him so that she is only inches from him. "You didn't move on, Garrus!" she practically yells. "You went on a suicidal spring-cleaning of Omega. You buried yourself in vigilante justice and dressed it up as grieving but you definitely didn't move on."

Garrus' chest rises in heated anger. Something snaps inside him. "How do you expect someone to move on from that then? Huh, Shepard?" He grabs her by the arms and shakes her.

Thane stands tense and watchful behind them, his eyes flicking between them in hesitance, his body coiled in tight readiness.

Garrus growls into her face. "How do you expect someone to move on from you? From –" The words catch in his throat and he has to move his gaze to the floor or he will not be able to hold back any longer.

Thane's eyes flash in recognition, but he does not move to them. He knows that Shepard is what Garrus needs right now. And he knows that Shepard will be that for him. He also knows that Shepard is too angry and overwhelmed and frightened to take Garrus' words for what they truly mean. For what lies hidden in them.

Thane's eyes are almost sympathetic on the tortured turian.

Shepard shakes her head and grinds her teeth in desperate frustration, anchored with the harsh threat of loss in her heart. "I'm sorry, Garrus, I'm so, _so_ sorry. I never…I never wanted to leave, you have to know that. But I am here now. And I hate that you've been living with this for so long and that I couldn't help you. But this… _this_ is the only way I know how to help you."

Garrus releases his hold of her arms and turns from her. "By denying me my revenge?"

"By denying you the guilt of killing in cold-blood," she nearly shouts. She plants a hand against her armor's chestplate where she feels her heart beating furiously beneath her touch. "I would rather live with the blood and the guilt and the consequences than to see you dying _every day_ because of it."

Garrus glances at her out of the corner of his eye, his mandibles flexing, his nostrils flaring.

Shepard continues. "Because the Garrus I know, the Garrus I _need_ , could not live with it either." Her words end on a shaky expel of breath, her hand clenched into a fist against her chest.

Garrus shakes his head, his eyes on the floor. He sighs. And it is everything hopeless and lost and painful. "Why can't you just let me be? Why can't you just let me have my blood and my hate? I've already chosen this path, Shepard. Let me walk it." He says it with a resigned finality that tears at Shepard in ways she will never forget.

The tears have returned hot and unrelenting to her eyes. She shakes her head, teeth grinding painfully, her chest tight and quaking and filled with a brutal need. She moves to him with frantic hope, reaches for him without realizing. She pulls him around to face her and moves her hands to his cheeks. He blinks in surprise at her sudden touch, the feel of her warm palms against his rough skin. His breath catches in his throat.

She holds his face in her hands, her eyes meaningful and sure on his. There is something clawing its way through her heart. "If you do this, I will lose you," she breathes.

Garrus watches her in steady and awed silence, his brows furrowing, his words dying in his throat. Something breaks inside of him.

She does not move her gaze from his. Her eyes are hard suddenly, her chest rising in determined breathes. "I will not lose you again."

He watches her in silence for several long moments. She says it with such conviction, such infallible belief, that he cannot do anything but shake silently in her hold. He reaches a hand up and wraps his talons tenderly and awkwardly around one of her wrists. He nods his head, slowly at first, his resolve and fury shattering painfully inside him.

Shepard hears the first sob leave his lips as though it was the first breath he'd ever taken. And then there is a heavy and ragged exhale. He clenches his teeth tight, shuts his eyes to the onslaught, and leans his forehead against hers.

She closes her eyes, moves her hands from his face so that she can wrap her arms around him. He buries his face in her neck, his talons held tightly to her shoulders and she ignores the pain of it.

"You were gone and I…I…" he gasps in a pained whisper.

"I know," she breathes softly against his armored shoulder. It is all she can say. And it seems so callous, and so stupid, and so worthless. But it is all she can say. "I know." Her voice quakes with her tears.

Thane watches their embrace and remembers that everything dies.


	11. Haunts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'Maybe the past never really leaves us.' They watch each other through eyes that may be strangers." - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

Sheparding Men

Chapter Eleven: Haunts

"' _Maybe the past never really leaves us.' They watch each other through eyes that may be strangers." -_ A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

"Siha."

Shepard turns at Thane's name for her. She does not question it anymore.

They stop just before Citadel security outside the docking bay for the Normandy. Garrus stops ahead of Shepard and looks back to watch the two. He is anything but settled. And there are long nights ahead that he still fears. Emotions and thoughts he's kept buried for so long he wonders how he can ever bring them out into the light without killing them. But something has changed. And he knows that Shepard is there to make the journey with him. He is not afraid of living anymore.

Behind him, Shepard moves to Thane as the drell stills, his hands held behind his back, his eyes to the floor.

"What is it, Thane?" She raises her chin as she watches him.

"There is something I must speak with you about, preferably before we leave the Citadel." He looks up at her.

Shepard turns to Garrus behind her. "We'll meet you back on the Normandy." Her words are firm and exact. She looks back to Thane.

Garrus nods. "Commander," he acknowledges, turning from them and allowing them some privacy.

Shepard searches Thane's eyes. "What's the issue?"

The drell pulls a deep, steadying breath in. "My son, Kolyat."

* * *

Shepard lets off a round in Kolyat's arm when he is distractedly yelling at his father. The young drell cries out in pain, his gun arm whipping back as the turian mark kneeling before him scrambles away. Shepard whips an elbow across Kolyat's jaw before he can steady himself, cracking loudly in the space of the room and he is falling to the ground in an awkward tumble. Shepard picks up his dropped pistol and stands over him. She can hear Thane sighing beside her. She does not apologize for wounding his son.

Kolyat whips heated eyes to her, one hand coming up to grip at his wounded arm.

"Your father would like a moment of your time." She hands the failed assassin's gun behind her to Bailey, keeping her eyes on Kolyat.

Kolyat hisses, shuffling to his knees on the ground, looking up at the dark form of Shepard before him. "He never wanted it before. Why should I care now?"

Something lights inside Shepard and she narrows her almond eyes at the drell before her. She cannot explain this heat, this anger, that churns deep in her gut. Her fingers curl tight around her pistol's grip. "You won't have to for long," she grinds out, almost spitting the words.

"Siha."

Thane's voice rolls over her like smoke.

Kolyat's eyes widen minutely at his father's name for the human woman before him, flicking darkly between the two. He is all tense muscles and coiled anger.

Shepard pulls a deep breath in and turns her gaze beside her where Thane is standing steady, silent, eyes unblinking on her. She blows the air through her lips tightly and lowers her gaze, turning from them to leave.

"Thank you," he offers as she walks stiffly from the room.

* * *

Shepard has never really thought much of children. Never thought much of them as far as concerning _her_. She's not good with kids. Never has been. They're either too needy, or too loud, or too stupid. It's a fuzzy thing for her. She hates baby talk. Has used the phrase "Suck it up" probably far more than is appropriate with kids. And she doesn't like the idea of someone so frail or important depending on her. Give her asshole adults any day. But give her the innocent, questioning youth of the galaxy? She will ruin them, she knows. She will ruin them in ways that speak of too-soon and not-enough. Ways that tell of a bloody past and an even bloodier future that she wishes on no one.

Least of all children.

She sits on one of C-Sec's waiting benches outside the interrogation rooms, leaning forward with her elbows resting atop her knees, her hands dangling limp between them. She can see the images of Thane and Kolyat as the younger drell paces the room and moves his arms about in large, angry motions. She watches the stillness of Thane as he listens, as he hurts, as he tries to find words to reach a son that might be too far gone to want him anymore.

Shepard looks away. She remembers very little about her mother, and even less about her father. She would not know his face if she should see it now. She knows only the smell of sawdust. The image of the sun, its pink lip over the edge of a building with the sign "Shepard's Pub", warm and dim in the fading light. And burning October foliage.

She swallows tightly and looks up to find Thane stepping from the room. Her eyes flick behind the glass and she finds Kolyat standing in the center of the room, fists balled loosely at his sides, shoulders trembling. In the sharp light of C-Sec he looks so young and so lost and so familiar.

The scent of sawdust. Shifted light at dusk. Red leaves on the wind.

Thane's face is a shadow she does not recognize.

Somewhere inside, Shepard locks away her need, and lets go of _father_ and _family_ and _home._ When she looks at Kolyat she wonders when his own ruination began. She wonders how much Thane is to blame for it. She wonders if maybe they aren't both doomed and lost and worse for the world.

* * *

Tali is frantic and wringing her fingers when she tells Shepard about the treason charges. Shepard looks at her with focused eyes. She takes a deep, steady breath, her lips pulled into a tight frown.

"I'm sorry, Shepard," Tali fumbles, her masked face to the floor. "I don't want to leave you at such a time but I _must_ make it back to the flotilla before the hearing starts." She sighs, her hands dropping limp to her sides. "I'll charter a ship as soon as you grant me leave." She lifts her face then, and though covered in lighted glass, Shepard knows the quarian's eyes are earnest on her own. "I won't be long. I promise, I'll set the record straight and be back in time to help with the Collectors."

Shepard quirks a soft smirk at the quarian.

Tali leans with one hand on her hip. "There's no way I'm letting you off on a suicide mission without me."

Shepard can hear the slight worry lacing the other woman's tone, hidden somewhat behind false nonchalance. She sighs.

She begins to wonder how old Tali is. How young? And how new? And how much unseen?

"Give the coordinates to EDI. We'll get you to the trial in style." Shepard can't help the wry smile that graces her lips.

Tali is silent for a moment. Then she is looking to her hands. Then there is a strange choked sound lost behind her mask.

Shepard breathes a soft sigh of laughter and shakes her head. "Don't get all soft on me now, kid." She moves to walk away when she feels the cold metal of Tali's suit-clad fingers on her hand. She looks up to find Tali looking at her behind inscrutable glass.

"Thank you." It is so soft. There is the slight grip of her fingers on Shepard's, and then her touch is gone. Tali pulls in a breath, her hands landing on her hips. "Until then, I'm all yours Commander."

Shepard nods and makes her way back through the engineering compartment.

* * *

Tali is crying above the corpse of her father and Shepard can say nothing. She grits her teeth tightly, her eyes set on the bloodied quarian sprawled across the floor. She swallows thickly.

Tali is kneeling on the floor, the back of her hooded head to Shepard, the slight quake in her shoulders easily visible. Her shotgun lays forgotten beside her.

Shepard pulls sweet air through her lungs and looks at Garrus beside her. His eyes are on Tali, his mouth open as though to speak, but there are no words.

There are no words.

There is only smoke and blood and the cold ground beneath their feet.

Garrus looks up to Shepard and finds her watching him with eyes that seem lost in a time he never knew her.

"Father," Tali cries, her voice laced with tears and spite. Her fingers curl tight along her father's broken arm as she turns him over.

Shepard's jaw tightens and she glances to Tali meaningfully, and then back to Garrus. She has never been one to handle others' grief well. Never been one with words or well-meant offerings or a tender touch.

Garrus narrows his eyes minutely, pulling in a sharp breath. He looks back down to Tali and something breaks inside. He holds his rifle out to Shepard to hold momentarily and kneels down to Tali's sobbing form.

"Hey," he calls softly, his talons curling around her shoulder and turning her to him. She moves into his arms effortlessly and Shepard is suddenly reminded of Benezia's death.

How Liara had stood, shaking and immovable, before her mother's body. How she had finally broken in Garrus' arms that night in the mess hall.

Shepard tastes regret on her tongue, sharp and branding.

_Father_ and _family_ and _home_.

She doesn't know what these things mean anymore. And she doesn't know how to nurture them in others. How to hold sacred and loved that which should be natural. How to share family that she cannot remember. How to hold tight to a past she thinks might be better off lost. But never forgotten.

Because she has to remember.

She has to remember.

Tali digs her fingers into the cold material of Garrus' armor and cries.

She has to remember.

* * *

"'Vas Normandy', huh?" Shepard teases as she crosses her arms and leans on one hip to watch Tali.

Tali sighs heavily and turns her gaze from the Admiral's court to watch Shepard. Her fingers are gripping the rail tightly as she leans forward over it, other quarians milling past her after the conclusion of the trial. "Don't get used to it," she chuckles.

Shepard is smiling, and she swears Tali is as well.

Tali clears her throat, looking back to her hands as they hold tight to the railing. "Thank you, Shepard. For not…revealing my father's crimes."

Shepard cocks her head toward Tali. "They wouldn't have found you guilty, Tali. The quarian people wouldn't have stood for it. Reegar and Veetor proved that."

Tali glances to Shepard, silent momentarily. She pulls in a soft breath before continuing. "Would you…would you have given the evidence otherwise?"

Shepard knows what she wants to hear. But it is not what is. Not what would have been. Something soft and mournful in Shepard tells her that Tali is too good for this world. She sighs as she moves to lean her elbows along the rail next to the young quarian. "Yes. I would have done it to clear your name."

Tali cannot look at her then.

Shepard turns the words around on her tongue several moments before speaking. "The dead are dead, Tali. We are here. We are the ones who still shape this stupid fucking galaxy." She hears Tali pull in a sharp breath beside her and decides to continue. "Names are nothing to what we can still do." She turns her gaze to Tali then.

The quarian moves her hands together to link her fingers along the rail. "Names are stronger with quarians, Shepard. They are the reminders of where we come from, what we are capable of, what we might still become."

Shepard scoffs and pushes from the rail. "Make your own name then."

Tali stops and looks out over the vacant courtyard.

Shepard watches Tali's silent form for a moment before she puts a finger to the radio in her helmet. "Joker, we're boarding in five. Ready the Normandy."

Joker's responding affirmation sounds in her ear and she is turning to walk from the empty courtyard, Garrus silent beside her.

"Shepard," Tali calls, pushing from the rail and jogging up to her.

Shepard turns to her.

Tali wrings her fingers quietly for a moment. "I…"

Shepard lifts a brow.

Tali huffs softly, and Shepard cannot help the light quirk to her lip at the sound.

The quarian stops her fidgeting hands and pulls her shoulders tight. "I rather like the sound of Tali Zorah vas Normandy."

Garrus' soft chuckle is heard lilting in the air behind the women.

Shepard nods toward the exit. "As do I, Tali."

* * *

When Samara comes to her to ask her help in killing her daughter, Shepard begins to wonder if the universe is trying to tell her something.

She does not know a parent-child story that has not ended in heartache.

* * *

It is rather easy, Shepard thinks, to lure Morinth. She does not try hard. Does not change her normal behavior much. She starts to wonder how the world sees her.

It takes her only moments to shake the thought.

Such a stupid worry.

There are worse things in this galaxy.

* * *

Shepard holds her arms before her eyes to shield them from the blinding, blue light emanating from Morinth and Samara's biotic entanglement. She can feel the air shift and churn about the room, feel the power undulating around them. Shockwaves pulse from the two warring asari as they hold each other powerless in their biotic holds. Shepard stands before them, each calling to her.

She already knows how this must end.

She takes a moment to watch Morinth. To glance the supple grace and fierce power the asari bears heatedly. To wonder at what a daughter she might have been.

What a daughter she _was_.

Did she draw? Was she a dancer? What was her favorite color?

Did she hold her mother's fingers tight when she read her to sleep at night?

Shepard swallows tightly and moves toward Morinth.

The blank space between stars. This is what she takes from her mother. Through the ginger tea and loose braids and a morning that smells of bread rolls and ink. This is what she takes.

When Shepard grips Morinth's hand and pulls it tightly behind her back, her green almond eyes locked with the bright eddies of the asari's pupils, wide and hateful, she wonders what she takes from her own mother.

What stories and what memories and what relief she takes with her.

She wonders if Morinth knows what she means when she says "mother". She wonders if she still loves her when she is broken and finished on the cold ground.

Samara stands tall above the still-warm corpse of her daughter, her fist bloody and curled tight.

"Samara", Shepard chances, her hand reaching out toward the older asari without realizing.

Samara's shoulders are stiff and taut, and Shepard pulls her hand back before she can touch the vast stillness of them.

They are silent and unmoving for several long moments.

Morinth's blood drips, warm and slick, from Samara's clenched fist to the floor below.

Shepard begins to wonder if all children are haunted by their parents.

She grits her teeth and slumps down to fall back against the couch in the silent apartment.

Samara turns to her, pulling a deep breath through her lungs. There is no recognition of the recent fight along her face. No hint at the aching loss that had just bled itself on the floor before them. She smiles at Shepard.

Shepard blinks in aching unknowing at the asari.

"Thank you, Commander." Samara turns so that her gaze is searching through the wide panes of Morinth's open windows. "This was not an easy burden to bear. You have performed admirably in the face of such hardship."

Shepard sucks a sharp breath through her lips and curls her fingers along the grip of her pistol, her knees heavy and immovable from her seat along the couch. "Samara…"

The other woman's tight fist finally unfurls, her fingers light and unreachable. Her hand is still drenched in deep purple, her daughter's blood staining her palms as she breathes heavily. "There is nothing to be said that will make this any more palatable. What's done is done. I have achieved that which I have pursued for centuries."

Shepard finds her breath raking tightly along her lungs, her gaze turned from the asari to the dark expanse of open space past the window. "That easy, huh?" she breathes harshly. She knows it is not. But she cannot help the words.

Samara sighs beside her. "It is never an easy thing, to kill that which you love. But sometimes, it is necessary."

Shepard pulls her lips tight, does not look to the asari standing still and steady beside her. "Is that enough, then?"

Samara is silent.

Shepard turns her gaze to the asari. She rakes a hand through her hair and sighs, pushing herself from the couch. "Is it enough that it was needed?" She thinks she needs to hear that it was. She thinks she needs to know that need outweighs everything else. That it was worth it. That nothing else matters if _it was worth it_.

Samara is moving for the door without an answer. She does not look back.

Shepard closes her eyes and tries to breathe.

* * *

Shepard is tired of waiting. She is tired of playing by others' rules. She plans to take the fight to the Collectors. They plot their path to the derelict Reaper. The IFF is the last piece.

* * *

Grunt's shotgun echoes in the hollow space of the derelict Reaper. Several husks are blasted back by the shot, Jack's rippling Shockwave following up to tumble any remaining husks into oblivion. Shepard is swift and efficient with her sniper rifle, cutting down the Scions quickly while her teammates work through the smaller hordes.

She does not care for the scientist's logs. She hears their words, acknowledges their fears. But she knows what she fights. And she knows what she risks. She is not afraid of the Reapers. Hasn't been for a long time. She came here for something. She is not leaving without it.

The sharp whistle of a sniper shot sails past her ear and she twists in time to see the exploding torso of a husk behind her. She turns back sharply, trying to gauge the trail of the shot, and blinks in heated confusion at the geth standing atop the metal fixture several dozen feet from her.

"Shepard-Commander" she hears it say, in a far-off echo through the Reaper hull.

She opens her mouth to respond, though she is unsure of her own words, when more husks make their way onto the platform. She glances around and gauges her enemy's position. When she looks back up, the geth is gone. She grits her teeth and growls, her frustration focused on the incoming husks.

* * *

The geth is tossed over to the open Normandy airlock, soaring through the air easily in the low gravity field of the dead Reaper. Jack follows shortly after, then Grunt.

When Shepard makes the jump, there is a moment, a whisper of time where she is weightless and drifting and suddenly, her mind remembers the burning wreckage of the first Normandy.

She sucks a sharp breath in, the air tight in her lungs, the brief fear tearing through her gut, her eyes blinking frantically, and then her boots are connecting with the deck of the Normandy airlock. Jack's hand is on her arm, pulling her through the threshold as Grunt drags the geth over his shoulders.

The solid weight of the Normandy beneath her feet brings her back to herself.

* * *

Shepard's eyes light along the worn N7 patch of Legion's armor. The red is still bright. Still strong. Still blaring through the scruffs and chafes and dirt. The patch is a bit worn, the white accompanying stripe dull against the vividness of the red. She can see the mark of a grazed bullet path along the top edge of the shoulder pad. Blooms of dried oil smeared along the rough material as it connects with Legion's wired arm.

She blinks. Looks up to find the whirling optic light of Legion's face focused on her. Slowly, it rescinds, the soft ticking barely noticeable, the metal plates around its head flaring. Just once. Lightly. Thoughtfully.

Shepard sets her jaw. Her eyes narrow at the synthetic.

"There was a hole." Legion's head tilts slightly, his optic light flickering minutely.

Shepard keeps her stance taut, her shoulders bunched, her hands ready and patient at her side. She swallows tightly.

Legion watches her.

Her gaze falls back along the N7 shoulder guard.

She is light and falling and grasping once more. The burning flare of the Normandy's destruction is bright in her mind. Silent and deafening. Brilliant and desolate. Cold and searing and everything unknowable. She catches the blue illumination of Alchera below her as she sails through empty space. Her fingers are shaking. Her chest is heavy and smarting. She can hear her heartbeat thudding in her ears. Hear the laden rush of her blood in the suffocating space of her helmet.

She is moments from the silent downfall.

"Shepard-Commander."

She blinks at the searching light of Legion. Her lips are dry. Her teeth grind painfully along her jaw. "But why _my_ armor?" she manages to breathe tightly through clenched teeth.

Legion is silent for many seconds.

She does not lower her gaze.

The synthetic's head panels lift and flutter. "No data available."

Shepard lifts her chin and furrows her brows at the machine before her. Her muscles are still bunched in ready anticipation, still coiled in keen stillness. She thinks of the dead Normandy.

Broken and flaring and unreachable.

_There was a hole_.

Shepard blows the air through her lips in a dark scoff, her eyes rolling around the room. She rubs at her chin and chuckles, leaning her weight to one hip. She eyes the silent synthetic before her.

Wonders at the slight flutter of light and metal. Wonders at the cold and sleekness of its form.

Shepard knows just where and how much and what pressure is needed to shut such a machine down.

She thinks about how the word "kill" came to be.

She thinks about _death_ and _still_ and _quiet_. Begins to wonder if it's all any different in the end.

Begins to wonder at what point it stops looking like blood on her hands.

She feels so tired suddenly. Shepard sighs and wipes a hand down her face, her eyes flicking to the geth. "Sure, Legion," she chuckles darkly. Her face is full of something the geth will never know. "Sure," she breathes softly.

She turns from the room and leaves.

* * *

Her hands are braced on the edge of the table in the comm. room as she leans over it, Miranda standing beside her, arms crossed. Jacob stands across the room similarly. Shepard glances over the schematics EDI has up on hologram in the middle of the room.

"How long?" she asks.

"I do not have an approximate time, Shepard," the ship AI answers. "Hours, possibly a day or two. My processing algorithms are still working through the bulk of the Reaper code. Installation of the IFF will not be immediate."

"We can investigate Project Overlord while EDI makes the necessary adjustments in the ship's computers," Miranda offers, leaning her weight to her other hip, arms uncrossing as she shifts.

Shepard is silent for a moment, her brows furrowed in thought.

"Commander?" Jacob's voice is firm and without hesitation, but there is the slightest hint of concern laced beneath.

Shepard flicks her gaze up to the man.

He does not question her further, does not move from his position leaning against the far wall. His eyes tell of worry Shepard cannot help but smirk at.

She pushes off the table. "I'm fine, Officer."

Miranda glances between the two.

"EDI," Shepard calls.

"Yes, Shepard." Her voice is all grace and smoothness.

"Set a course for Alchera." She is moving from the room before either Cerberus operative can voice a word.

* * *

"Shepard."

Admiral Hackett's voice lights a mixture of both relief and dread in her gut. She watches the flickering light of his face along the screen of her private terminal in her cabin. The room is filled with grey and quiet.

"Admiral Hackett," she greets. She keeps her hands gripped behind her back, her shoulders taut, her chin high.

"I understand you have decided to tour the wreckage of the Normandy SR-1 on Alchera."

Shepard nods. "Yes, sir."

"Have you reviewed my message?"

She nods once more. "Yes, sir. I intend to gather any information on the missing crew."

There is a soft sigh on the other end of the line, and she can see him look off to the left momentarily. His eyes are unreadable through the terminal. "That will be a relief to many of the Normandy's families, Commander. And the monument?"

She wants to curl her lip. Wants to look away. Her fingers grip tightly together behind her back. "Sir, we have much larger concerns than the placement of a tourist memorial."

Hackett grumbles quietly behind the screen. "I'm not one to argue that, Shepard. But the damn thing's already on its way. Besides, we can throw the politicians a bone on this one. Your name still counts for something with a lot of us. Don't think this goes unnoticed."

She furrows her brows. "Sir?"

He sighs. "The troops need a legend every once in a while, Shepard. Let them have it. I'm sure you could use the coverage. Cerberus and all."

She wants to say so many things. Some part of her knows she still can. Knows she doesn't answer to Alliance anymore.

But watching Admiral Hackett's face, flickering in dim orange light in the dark of her cabin, keeps her jaw tight and her words dying in her throat. Some part of her still feels right and natural when she says "Sir" and watches his responding nod.

Some part of her still yearns for an Earth that welcomes her with open arms.

"The monument has an escort."

Shepard purses her lips in question at Hackett's words.

"An Alliance honor guard will present the statue where you deem the placement. Lieutenant Alenko will sign it over."

* * *

Shepard looks up from the frozen tundra of Alchera to watch the dark expanse of space above the planet. She pulls a slow, deep breath in and hears the heavy exhale in her helmet. The sky is blanketed with black space and pockets of stars. Her skin prickles with the cold touch of the planet around her.

She looks back down to the Alliance shuttle nestled in the snow several dozen feet from her own Cerberus one. She can see three Alliance engineers surveying the wreckage of the downed Normandy not far from their landing site. Standing atop a low, icy rock ledge, the broad, shorn-off panel spelling out "Normandy" behind her, Shepard overlooks the strewn debris of her former ship.

"Wasn't sure you'd want to see it."

Kaidan's voice comes from somewhere both far away and familiar. Shepard feels him step up next to her and she is still and waiting and watchful. His voice is muffled minutely from his breather helmet. She turns her gaze beside her and catches his eyes.

His eyes.

She clears her throat and looks back out over the frozen plain. "It's not a matter of 'want'."

Kaidan hums a soft acknowledgement, moving his hands to hold behind his back as he looks out over the ledge as well.

Shepard furrows her brows at him. "This is a pretty crap detail for you. How'd you pull it?" Something in her makes the words easy when they should be anything but. She can already feel the anger, simple and immediate in her gut. Everything _lost_ and _almost_ and _maybe_ hangs in the air around them, unspoken. Her nostrils flare as she pulls in a deep breath.

Kaidan does not look at her. "I asked for it."

Her eyes narrow so quickly he might have missed it had he been watching her. "Why?" she seethes. The anger is smooth and hot along her tongue. She doesn't know why.

Kaidan stiffens beside her, but his voice is still graceful, still lilting with that hidden tenderness she remembers, even now. "Because I knew you'd be here."

Shepard pulls heavy, labored breathes through her lungs and keeps her hands balled into fists at her sides. She watches him unabashedly.

He turns so that he can level her with his own gaze.

It is a face that haunts her. She hates that she still sees it in her dreams some nights.

"Hackett contacted me when he got your response to his request. And I asked to be part of the detail."

Shepard curses under her breath, tearing her gaze away to look back out over the plain. "I could kill that man."

Kaidan chuckles, and the sound is so foreign and warm that it lights something in Shepard she hasn't felt in a long time. "You like him too much."

Shepard glances at him out of the corner of her eye. "That wouldn't stop me."

Kaidan is silent for many moments. "I'm not here to accuse you of anything." He sighs. "I'm not here to question you. To argue with you. To war with you over anything."

Shepard crosses her arms and puffs a breath of cold air into the space of her helmet.

Kaidan's shoulders slump slightly, his head turning to catch her eyes. "I'm only here for the lost. For Jenkins. And Pressly."

She can see the dark orbs of his eyes when she looks at him. There is so much warm and familiar and needful about them.

Kaidan's eyes drift over her shoulder, so that he is not watching her when he continues. "And for you."

Shepard's lips part. Her hands are trembling. She moves her gaze to the roaming engineers across the snowy field as they wonder the blanket of Normandy ruin. Everything is white and grey. Everything is cold and austere. Apart. Distant. From another time. Another life.

Shepard remembers the feel of his hands along her skin.

She closes her eyes and remembers to breathe. "For the lost, huh?" she whispers lowly, the dark simmer of a chuckle lighting her words.

Kaidan's eyes are toward the ground. "I just…I needed to see you. I needed to see you in the midst of…this." He releases his grip behind his back, his hands sliding limply to his sides. His chest rises steadily with his heavy sigh.

She can feel something hot and churning in her bones. She grinds her teeth in harsh quiet beside him. His hand is so close. So close that she could hold it if she only spread her fingers. If she only reached for him.

She doesn't.

Kaidan shuffles a boot into the snow. "Maybe the past never really leaves us."

Shepard steadies her breath and curls her fingers, feels the rough grate of her armored gloves. "I'm not the same woman you loved." The words leave her before she realizes it. It is a voice she does not recognize. She hears his sharp intake of breath that tells her he does not recognize it either. Her head turns instinctively to watch him.

It takes him a moment, but eventually, slowly, with the hesitant pull of someone still waiting, still desperate, still hopeful, he turns to her.

They watch each other through eyes that may be strangers.

Kaidan swallows tightly, his mouth opening once. Then closing. Then, "I know."

Something breaks inside him with the words.

Shepard does not move her eyes from his. She keeps his gaze. Feels the breath raking and sharp in her chest. Feels the curl of her muscles bunch and release. Feels the slow sinking of something far-off and unreachable in her heart. Something that feels like memory and tells of home. Something she does not recognize anymore.

Kaidan pulls his lip between his teeth, grateful for the mask of the breather helmet that keeps his trembling secret from her.

They do not look from each other for several long moments. Not until they are heavy with remembrance. Not until they are each reaching and resigned and regretful inside. Not until they are each screaming in silence.

Not until they are each lovers and rivals and strangers.

Not until they are everything and nothing at once.


	12. Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Her whole face darkens instantly and she shoves him from her with her hands against his chest. Roughly. With all of herself. Her fury is white-hot and bone-deep. 'Fuck you!' she roars." - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

Sheparding Men

Chapter Twelve: Enough

 _"Her whole face darkens instantly and she shoves him from her with her hands against his chest. Roughly. With all of herself. Her fury is white-hot and bone-deep. 'Fuck you!' she roars." -_ A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

Shepard is just stepping out of the shuttle in the Normandy's bay when she catches sight of Garrus waiting for her, leaning against the wall beside the exit.

She sighs, her helmet held to her side by one arm, her other reaching up to pull at the tie in her hair. She walks toward him. Her dark, tangled curls bunch around the collar of her armor when freed.

Garrus pushes from the wall when she reaches him. His eyes are dark and focused on her. "Welcome home." There is warmth and ease and acceptance in his voice, his mouth lilting in a crooked grin, too light to be believable, too heavy to be comforting.

Shepard pulls a slow breath in and looks around the shuttle bay. The image of the broken Normandy on Alchera's frozen surface below is still bright and vivid. She glances around at the engineers and the grey metal hull. Everything is still cold. Everything is still shattered and snow-touched and hollow in her mind. She swallows thickly. "Home." The word is soft and empty.

"Hey." Garrus cocks his head at her, a hand coming up to rest his talons along her shoulder momentarily, squeezing minutely, and then sliding back down to his side.

Shepard's eyes flick back to his. They are distant and hesitant. Lost somewhere he may never know. She tries to smile. Fails terribly.

He cocks his head toward the elevator. "Come on, killer."

Shepard follows him silently, her free gloved hand raking through her curls. She stops when her armored fingers get caught in the thickness and she huffs at her forgetfulness.

They make it to the elevator and step in. They are silent for several seconds, and Shepard leans back against the wall, her head resting back, eyes closing with a sigh. The exhaustion that fills her has nothing to do with her body.

Garrus watches her steadily. "Did you and Alenko manage not to spill any blood?" He ends on a warm chuckle but even he can sense the stiffness of it.

Shepard opens one eye to look at him. "Surprisingly."

He grunts in acknowledgement and then stays silent, eyes turned from her.

"It wasn't…" She trails off, her eyes flicking to the wall.

Garrus only watches her.

Shepard sighs exasperatedly and pushes off the wall, slamming a hand to the controls, halting the upward progress of the elevator. "EDI," she calls, her voice a heavy rasp.

"Yes, Shepard." The graceful voice is all around them in the elevator.

"Lock the controls of the elevator. I need a moment." She releases her hand from the panel along the wall and eyes Garrus steadily.

"Is there something wrong?" EDI asks.

"No. I don't know." Shepard rubs a hand down her face. "It's fine. Just lock it down."

"Of course, Shepard," is her answer, and then the line is silent.

Garrus's brow plates furrow for a moment, his mandibles fluttering silently and lightly as he eyes her.

Shepard tears her gaze away and braces a hand along the wall. "Kaidan." She exhales his name like a curse, like a haunting. Like a heavy memory she cannot be rid of. Sometimes she doesn't want to be rid of it. "I don't know what he thinks anymore. I can't…can't tell what he _feels_."

Garrus is silent for many moments. "Do you even _want_ to know what he feels anymore?" The question is not harsh. It is hesitant. He barely expects an answer.

She scoffs softly. "Fuck, I don't know."

Garrus moves so that he leans against the elevator wall along her line of sight. She picks her head up to watch him.

"It's okay, you know," he starts, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's okay if you do."

Shepard clenches her jaw tight as she looks at him.

Garrus looks across the elevator and sighs. "It's not like you can just forget everything overnight."

"He did," she growls out, suddenly angry.

Garrus levels her with narrowed eyes, his mandibles flexing. "That's not fair and you know it." He surprises himself with the words.

Shepard opens her mouth and then promptly closes it, her teeth clenching tight.

Thrumming his talons along his arm, he continues, cautiously. "Kaidan loved you." Something in him clenches at the thought.

She is silent in her brace against the wall. Slowly, she pushes from her lean and lays her back against the cool metal, sliding down to squat on the floor of the elevator. She drops her helmet beside her. "I thought so, anyway."

Garrus looks down at her, his eyes hesitant. "He did."

She grips her gloved fingers over her knees. "Then why?"

He can only draw a slow breath, sliding down beside her. "I don't know. Maybe…maybe he was too afraid to lose you again. Too afraid to believe you had come back to him, only not. That you weren't _truly_ the woman he loved anymore."

"I wasn't."

"He couldn't know."

"He should have."

Garrus looks to the floor, silent.

Shepard nudges his knee with one of her own. "You did. You knew."

Garrus tightens his talons over his knees, his gaze still on the floor. "Of course," he chuckles hesitantly. "I'm your wingman."

She only looks at him. Tries to memorize this moment. The look on his face. The steady assurance of his breath beside her. Constant. Close.

She doesn't know what she would have done had he turned his back like Kaidan.

She closes her eyes and turns away, her lip caught in her teeth. There is the dark laugh that leaves her. The shaky tremble of a breath. The heavy furrow to her brow. "Yeah." She shakes her head. "Yeah, of course."

He wants to say so much more.

Shepard leans her head back against the wall and opens her eyes to the ceiling. There is light. Bright and steady. Eerily crisp. She swallows thickly. "I don't think I could have taken you walking away, too. I need you to know that."

"I could never walk away." His voice is warm and deep again, and it makes her sigh quietly in the trembling depths of her heart. He still does not look at her.

She keeps her gaze on the ceiling. "I just wanted to move on, you know? To know, once and for all, that we were done. That we…" She tries to steady the raging of her heart. She blows an exasperated breath through her lips, dropping a fist half-heartedly to the floor between them, her fingers curling tightly against her palm. "God, this is so fucking stupid. So fucking…stupid." She trails off, and there is a slight wetness lining her lids that she _hates_. That she tries to sniff back.

"It's not." His voice is sure, purposeful. His eyes are trained on her face now.

She only shakes her head.

"It's _not_ ," he intones, leaning his head closer to her, so that his voice rumbles in the space between them. "You were both just scared and alone and there was nothing in the galaxy that could have changed that. Except each other. And that was impossible. You couldn't have…" He stops, swallowing tightly, his eyes imploring her to just _look at him._

Spirits, just look at him.

His brow plates incline sharply over his dark eyes. "It doesn't mean it didn't matter. It doesn't mean _you_ didn't matter."

Shepard closes her eyes and tries to breathe. "I can't…I mean, I know I don't love him anymore." She wonders if 'love' is even the right word. And then no. No, it isn't. But she doesn't know how else to say it, what else she's supposed to call the blistering, hesitant emotion that breathed of 'almost' and 'not enough' between them. She doesn't know what to call the sensation of wanting but not needing, of reaching desperately and pulling back at the same time. She doesn't know what to call the way she had felt, keening and hopeful, when just the possibility of love was before her.

Shepard takes a moment to gather the words in her throat, her fingers curling tightly into fists and then releasing. "Not...whatever it was. Not anymore," she breathes raggedly. When she says the words she knows it's true. Even if it hurts. Even if some small part of her wonders if she ever could feel that way again. But more of her, the part that looks to the sun and doesn't blink. That part of her thinks of Thane. And everything is calm again. "I don't think I want _him_ to love me anymore. But it's not about that. It's about him walking away when I needed him most. It's about…it's about not being enough."

Garrus wants to reach for her. Wants to know the words that will bring her back. Make her whole. But he doesn't think anyone knows such words. Not even her.

She sighs, rubbing a hand roughly along her eyes, digging her knuckles into the socket. "I guess we just…loved each other the best we could and it just…it wasn't enough."

"I know." He really doesn't. He really doesn't but what can you say? What do you say to that? What words do you offer and what false comfort and what empty offering? What in this galaxy is ever going to soothe the aching, rending pain that _it wasn't enough_?

He clears his throat. Tries again. "I know but, it doesn't make it mean any less. It doesn't mean that it was pointless, or wasteful, or wrong. It doesn't mean it was _wrong_."

She finally opens her eyes to his. There is a moment passed between them. A whisper of knowing. It passes quickly, and Shepard is wiping her nose, shaking her heavy curls over her shoulders. "I just…I'm done. I'm just done." Her words are hollow and low.

Garrus has never heard anything so devastating.

"I'm done with him." She sniffs loudly, squaring her shoulders, looking straight ahead at the crisp, clean wall. "Kaidan Alenko had my past. But that was it. The rest is mine." She pushes off the floor, grabbing her helmet from the ground as she stands. "He doesn't get to do this anymore. He doesn't get to make me feel this." Some part of her knows she will always feel it. But she will not admit to it. She will not let him drag her back into a past that does not want her anymore.

Garrus stands and joins her.

Once, when they were new and fresh and unknown to each other, he might not have understood this Shepard. Might not have felt the exhilarating, undeniable pull of her.  He might not have recognized her when she was aching and branded and worse for the world.

He might not have wanted to.

He doesn't think there's anything better than her in this galaxy.

Shepard clears her throat and turns to him, the soft flutter of a smile lighting along her lips. "Thank you, Garrus. For listening. For _always_ listening." She remembers the way he had looked at her when she found him on Omega. Something settles, warm and needed, inside her.

He quirks a slight smirk that is more painful than she will ever know. "Someone's got to keep you sane."

Her playful punch to his arm is light, her accompanying chuckle laced with the heavy lull of gratitude. He smiles at her.

Shepard rubs a hand along her nose, laughing quietly, and then she is placing a finger to the elevator controls once more, asking EDI to unlock the shaft. There is the sudden, minute jostle of the elevator as they rise to the crew quarters once more.

The doors open and Thane is waiting outside, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes are only for Shepard, his smile smooth and warm.

"Siha."

Garrus steps back to let her pass. She is all thrilling breath and illusiveness and the bright unreachable flaring of stars when she passes him.

Her hand reaches for Thane's instantly.

They walk from the elevator.

Garrus reminds himself to breathe.

* * *

Legion asks her to decide the fate of the Heretics. Her first reaction is to use the virus, turn it, change it, morph it to their needs. She stops. Looks at the geth before her.

The silent, light fluttering of its head panels. The slow, barely discernible whirl of its optic light. Legion waits patiently, quietly, its arms held limply at its side, unassuming. She has a hard time suppressing that natural, hard-earned urge to release her pistol into its optic screen. Tries to remind herself that she is not fighting geth anymore. That, if Legion's words are truth, she never really fought geth in the first place. It was a result of wiring. Minutely different computations. The sliver of a corruptible people that only wished for the return of their gods. Their saviors. Their reassurance in this brutal, bloody universe that they were not a mistake. That they had purpose.

Shepard stops.

People, she had thought. _People_.

She curses beneath her breath.

This is not what she needs right now. She does not need the existential bullshit of a whole pseudo-race right now. She does not need the patient, distant look of a geth before her.

She turns her gaze from Legion because she cannot look at him in this instant.

She thinks of waking in a Cerberus lab. The dark and frantic fear that she was not herself, that this life was not hers, that she was less than she knew. She thinks of a life lived under the harsh and unendurable orders of others. The Illusive Man. Cerberus. Even the Alliance. She thinks of a life that will never truly be hers.

She thinks of how death would be welcome compared.

She does not look at Legion when she speaks. "No. We're not using the virus."

"Shepard." Miranda's voice is cautious, low. A warning.

She levels a sharp gaze at her second-in-command. "We're not using the virus," she repeats, this time a harsh breath along her lips. She narrows her eyes at Miranda. "I won't enslave a whole consciousness. They lived by their beliefs. Now, they'll die by them." She turns and looks at Legion. "Death is better."

Legion does not respond. There is only the slight ticking of its hardware, the soft _whoosh_ of its whirling light as it digests her words. Then it nods. "Yes, Shepard-Commander."

She is suddenly angry without realizing why. "Yes? That's it? Just fucking 'yes'?" she growls, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

Legion's head panels flutter and rescind. "Yes."

She grinds her teeth and advances on the geth. "You don't even care do you? You don't care one way or the other what happens to them. Death or control. It doesn't fucking matter _at all,_ does it?" She doesn't know why she even asks. It cannot give her the answer she's looking for. But she cannot help the words from creeping up her throat.

Shepard pushes her face into Legion's, snarling before its optic light. She can feel the heat from its machinery at such proximity.

Legion glances to Miranda, and then back to Shepard, not moving from its unassuming, calm posture. "We have relinquished responsibility of such a decision due to our lack of knowledge pertaining to the consequences inherent to the destruction or modification of the Heretics. We have neither the experience nor the exponential data to formulate a unified response. Does this not satisfy your quandary, Shepard-Commander?"

Shepard feels the breath, ragged and harsh, raking through her chest as she stares the geth down. "My quandary?" She barks a laugh. "My quandary," she repeats dryly. She shakes her head, half laughing, half scoffing, turning from the machine and throwing her hands in the air.

Miranda eyes her warily.

"We do not understand, Shepard-Commander. Have you not reached your decision?"

She stands away from them, her back to them, looking off down the hollow, hazy hall of the geth structure. She licks her lips and blinks furiously, hanging her head. "No, I've reached my decision."

There is the barely-there clicking and static fuzz of Legion's mechanics behind her. And then slowly, almost hesitantly if she thought too hard about it, there is this, "Are you not…satisfied with this decision, Shepard-Commander?"

She tries to remember a world without Reapers. Without Collectors. Where there was only the uniform and the work and the quiet, still nights in her cabin. She can't recall what it felt like not to hate. Not to rage. She turns her gaze to Legion and stops, staring, steady, silent.

It should be so easy.

But it's not.

It never will be.

"Just set the charges," she breathes harshly, swiping a hand through the air as though to signify the finality of the statement. "I'm over this fucking station."

Legion watches her for a moment longer, and then it is turning to the command console. Still silent. Still fluttering panels and flickering lights. Still cold and metal and quick, subtle tappings.

Shepard wonders what it means to die and stay dead.

* * *

"What the _fuck_ , Joker?" Shepard snarls in her pilot's face as he rests against the table in the comm. room, eyes downcast. Miranda, Jacob, Mordin and Thane stand around her in the room, her other crewmates attempting to help EDI get the ship back online after the Collector ambush. The decks are hollow and silent. Empty. She cannot help this fury that erupts in her. "How do you lose the whole goddamn crew? Jesus fucking Christ, Joker. _The whole goddamn crew!_ "

"I know!" he snaps, eyes shooting up to catch hers. "I know, okay? I was _there_." There is a quake to his voice that threatens to break altogether.

"Shepard, if I may," EDI interrupts.

"No you may not," the commander bites back, her nostrils flaring, eyes shifting around the room for a faceless voice she cannot stare down.

Jacob steps forward. "He couldn't have stopped the attack, Shepard. We're lucky the Normandy's even intact."

Joker huffs and crosses his arms, looking at the Cerberus officer. "All EDI's doing." His gaze flicks back to Shepard. "So maybe we _should_ be listening to her," he comments pointedly.

Shepard's hands are fists at her sides when she takes a purposeful step toward her pilot, the wrath clawing at her chest. "Don't you fucking – "

"Siha." There is the smooth but firm grip of Thane's hand along her arm, halting her.

She does not look at him, continues glaring at Joker, her mouth set in a snarl.

Joker cannot hold her gaze. He lowers his eyes back to the floor, shifting his weight along the table.

Miranda scoffs. "You unshackled an AI. Do you even know the damage that could have been done? That could _still_ be done?"

"You are my crewmates," EDI begins, her voice lilting with the soft tones of reassurance. "I would wish you no harm."

Mordin stands with his hand lighting along his mouth, tentative, silent.

Shepard swallows back her growl and turns from Joker, her eyes landing on Thane's as he releases her arm and nods to her. She sets her jaw tight, breathing deeply, before she turns back to face her pilot. "There was no other way?" Her voice is low, her words even and clipped.

Joker shakes his head, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. "Don't you think I would have found it if there was?"

Shepard tries to control the itch of raging words stifled in her throat, moving to the table alongside Joker, her hands bracing against it. She pulls a deep breath in and slowly exhales, rubbing one hand down her face in exhaustion.

Everyone in the room watches her.

There is only a moment of tense silence before she is slamming her fist into the table. "Fuck, Joker, you really…" She stops, heaves a heavy breath and looks beside her.

His eyes are already on hers, his mouth set in a tight line. "I know," he breathes softly, regretfully. His brows crease in painful remembrance. "I know, Shepard. And I'm _sorry_. I didn't…" His eyes search hers and he swallows thickly. "You don't know what it was like to hear their screams, to…shit, to _hear_ them scream for me and to not be able to do _anything_. Not a damn thing. But to get the hell out of there." He turns his gaze from hers and grips his arms tighter in their cross over his chest. "Too little too late," he sighs, his head shaking softly.

Shepard only watches him, tries to steady her breathing. She knows. Really she does. But she's just so tired of losing.

Licking her lips, Shepard looks back to the table, her eyes hard and determined. She raises her head to look at the crewmates around her.

She thinks of Virmire. Of Ashley's choked and ragged breath across the line as she was dying.

She thinks of Horizon. Of Alchera. Of Kaidan's eyes when he was distant and unreachable and gone from her.

She thinks of Anderson. The heavy shake of hands when she departed the Citadel. The hesitant look on his face, the stirring of words that have never been said between them. The way she felt when she walked from him.

She thinks of Sidonis's blood splashed across her face. The heated tremble of Garrus's voice when he had raged against her, resentful and adrift and full of dark possibility. The weighted, terrifying thought that she had lost one more.

Shepard curls her fingers along the smooth tabletop, her eyes closing as she pulls sweet air into her lungs.

She thinks of dying. Of living. Of the small, barely discernible difference between the two.

She thinks of the _why_ behind it all. The how. The unknowable peace that comes with answers she might not be ready for.

She thinks of a galaxy she used to see in her dreams. Bright and exhilarating and unending.

The painful, desperate chance at a future she wishes for still.

Dying is easy.

Shepard opens her eyes to the faces around the room, straightens her shoulders, sighs heavily.

She has never liked 'easy'.

"Okay then, guys. Options?"

She does not see Thane's eyes, heavy and indiscernible, on her form.

* * *

Thane is at her cabin door that night, as they speed through space for the Omega Four Relay.

She opens the door to find him standing there, hands clasped behind his back, brows furrowed as he watches her. Her hand slips from the console on the wall and she moves aside to let him pass.

He nods silently, moving to stand beside her desk, one hand rising to light his fingers along the smooth edge. He taps them thoughtfully along the tabletop for a moment with his back to her.

She blinks at him, stepping from the door where she hears the soft _whoosh_ behind her that tells her of its closing. She stands in the middle of her cabin in her black sleeveless undershirt and uniform Cerberus pants. Her hair is down, thick and knotted along her back. She brushes absentmindedly at a dark strand along her cheek and cocks her head at him. He still has not spoken, his back to her.

"Thane?"

His head lifts slightly at her voice, but he does not turn to her. "I…am uncertain of my words at the moment. But I feel there are things that must be said between us."

Crossing her arms, Shepard swallows thickly and eyes the smooth muscle of his back through his shirt. "Such as?" Her words are shakier than she wants. She clears her throat.

His head tilts slightly to watch her out of the corner of his eye. "You know I am dying."

She does. Even when she thinks she can put it from her mind, she is wrong. She knows. And it tears at her in the night when she lies awake watching the stars gleam past her window.

She only shifts her footing. "I don't see how this is – "

"I am dying, Siha," he repeats, this time forcefully, this time turning fully to her so he can step closer. This time with the heavy brush of anger lining his words.

She furrows her brows, teeth clenching. "I know. I've always known."

"Do you?" He steps closer, so that he could touch her if he only wished.

If he only wished.

He sighs, his voice a deep rumble in the space between them. "If you truly understood the weight of such a statement you would not have entered into a relationship with me."

Shepard thinks she hears frustration in his voice. Frustration. Oh for the love of –

She uncrosses her arms. "Where the hell is this coming from? And now especially?" She glances desperately out her dark window, the light and fire of stars blurring past that tells her they are still sailing toward the Omega Four Relay. She motions at the room around her. "What the hell is going on, Thane?" There is the whisper of panic playing on her mind.

His eyes are hard on hers suddenly, his chest rising with his breath. He advances on her. She backs up instinctively, eyes wide, her back suddenly along the cool wall behind her. "What the fuck is – "

He slams a fist into the wall behind her, the force of his movement fluttering close to her cheek, and she narrows her eyes so fast he almost misses it.

"Can you not see?" he nearly bellows, his eyes dark and focused on hers, his hot breath fanning her cheeks. "Can you not see how this will end?"

Her eyes search his, her mouth parted in surprise and anger. She huffs, frown set deep in her features. "We knew that from the beginning. _You_ knew that from the beginning." She nearly growls. "And we still chose it."

"You can still take it back," he breathes harshly, his face close to hers, his other hand moving to brace the wall on the other side of her.

She cannot help the scoff of disgust that falls from her lips.

His jaw tightens at the sound.

Her features set hard, her hands curling into fists at her side, she snarls into his face. "You were the one who said you didn't want a wasted life. That you _wanted_ this. That you wouldn't spend another moment without the one you loved." Her voice cracks, hot tears suddenly lining her eyes that she wipes at furiously. She will not let him have her tears.

Thane stares her down. "A moment of weakness."

She fumes, bracing a hand against his chest. "Then this," she presses, holding her palm to where his heart beats beneath her touch. " _This_ is a weakness?"

He swallows tightly, his eyes roving her face as his breathing deepens, his lips so close to hers. "Yes." It is a breathy whisper.

She furrows her brows in frustration. "I don't believe you."

"You should."

"This is bullshit. This is fucking _bullshit_!"

"It is the necessary truth." His voice is rising.

"Fuck you!" she rages, her words spitting her anger across his cheeks. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to fucking do this to me. Not now."

"It is for the best, Siha."

"Don't you dare call me that," she seethes.

His voice is a heavy thunder, but there is something searing and painful beneath it. "I cannot ask this of you. I cannot ask of you your heart. Do you not understand?" he practically bellows.

"You didn't ask for it. I gave it. Freely. It was mine to give." She pants heatedly against him, the tears returning hot along her lids. "You don't get to give it back," she growls.

He pushes closer to her. "Siha," he breathes warningly.

"You said you were mine."

"It was a mistake!" he yells.

Shepard stops. She simply stops. Her words. Her breathing. Her furiously blinking eyes. Her shoulders sag as she stares at him, her lips parted. Her chest. It hurts. It hurts more than she ever thought possible.

Thane blinks when he registers the words. His mouth opens to speak but nothing he can say will ever sound like enough. His face is a silent horror as he pulls in a sharp breath, leaning back from her slowly. "I…I am sorry. Siha, I didn't mean – "

He doesn't get to finish. Her whole face darkens instantly and she shoves him from her with her hands against his chest. Roughly. With all of herself. Her fury is white-hot and bone-deep. "Fuck you!" she roars.

Thane stumbles back momentarily, his hands rising to brace against her as she shoves into him again. Hard. Knocking him back against the desk. "Siha."

"Fuck you!" she yells, this time louder, this time with the salt sting of tears to her eyes. This time with fists against his chest. She shoves him again and it is all he can do to keep his balance in the wake of her rage. "After everything!" Her face is screwed into sharp angles of wrath, her teeth grinding on each other. "I'm not a child, Thane! I knew what I was getting into. And I still chose it. I still chose _you_. Because I was dead, Thane. I was fucking dead and I'm not anymore and the only thing that has made it mean _anything_ is you." Another shove, but he has braced himself in the floor against her strength. "Because I'm fucking drowning in this goddamn universe. I'm fucking drowning, Thane! Because I'll take what I can get. Any of it. All of it. And what? _What_? That's not enough? It's not enough that you make me feel this way? Because it should fucking be enough!" She moves to shove him again, her vision blurred by tears, her whole body raw and aching and trembling violently with her rage.

Thane catches her wrists and she grunts in surprise, trying to wrestle free from his grasp. But he is too strong and she is yanking them back, Thane stumbling with her. She roars in his hold. "You stupid, fucking idiot!" She cannot control it anymore. This thunderous hammering of her heart against her ribs, this choking fury and throbbing pain. She hears his grunt in the back of her mind when her foot connects with his shin and she is still stumbling back, until she hits the wall forcefully, Thane's hands still wrapped tightly around her wrists to keep her from swinging at him. A soft breath is knocked from her as she connects with the wall, but it doesn't stop her. She snarls into his face. "Don't you fucking get it? God, all these months. All these absolute and utterly shit months. So fucked up. So fucking- God!" She pants, heated. Doesn't think she could ever stop. " I didn't give a shit before. Could of just fucking died again and then everyone would have been better off."

Thane's brows furrow painfully at her words as he moves to brace her against the wall to stop her struggle, his hands pinning her wrists to the wall behind her. He has no words. He can only watch her with this unnamable ache and hollow regret, his chest throbbing with his yearning, even still. He can feel her hot and angry panting against his cheeks.

"But it was you! It was you and those stupid eyes and your stupid words and your stupid fucking _everything_! What a joke," she scoffs, her words spitting sharp and deliciously irate in his face. "That you - dying and unreachable - that fucking _you_ made me feel alive." Her voice threatens to break, her chest heaving with the labored breathes of her struggle, her body slowly going slack against his. "It's all your fucking fault I'm this horrible tangled mess. It's all your fault! And the punch line? The fucking punch line?" Her words are a shaky tremble along her lips, her eyes hard and unflinching on his, even as the tears stain her cheeks. Even as she feels this dangerous, unknowable emotion trying to claw its way out her throat. She stares him down, her words hot against his lips, breathes away from her own. "I'd _still_ choose you."

Thane pulls a deep breath in at her words, his eyes never leaving hers, his hands gripping her wrists tightly against the wall. He feels something snap inside, sharp and searing and seeping through his bones until it is all he can feel. Until his whole body is alight with it. Until it is the only thing he knows. Sure and inescapable and so fucking clear he can almost taste it. "You shouldn't," he breathes raggedly against her, dark and helpless.

He crashes his lips against hers, rough and needy and desperate. He pushes into her, harder, frantically, his mouth moving over hers in reckless heat. Her mouth breaks apart in surprise and he slips his tongue in, greedy and wet against her own, his moan dragging along her lips. Her sound of surprise is muffled by his lips, her breath caught in her chest where it can't escape.

He can't get close enough. He digs his grip into her wrists until he is sure it is painful for her, swipes his tongue against hers in delicious heat. The keening sound in the back of her throat urges him further, his whole body flush against hers, his hips rocking instinctively into hers. He breaks from her for only a moment, only to pant "I'm sorry" against her swollen mouth before he is on her again, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth, nipping and sucking. She moans into his mouth and arches into him. He groans at the contact, his hands moving from her arms against the wall to dig his fingers painfully into her hips, anchoring her to him. His desire is apparent and insistent, his whole body curling around her, his tongue pushing hard against her own.

Her hands finally free, Shepard grabs for his shirt, bunching it in her fingers and tearing it up and over his head. He pulls his mouth from hers reluctantly, but sighs when he feels her hands running hot along his bare chest. He gathers her own shirt in his hands, keeping his hips fixed to hers as he yanks the material up, her arms moving to accommodate him. Beneath is her black sports bra. Quickly, with frantic, greedy fingers, it too is gone. There is a dark, impatient sound along his throat and he is kissing her again, his hands reaching down over her thighs and gripping them tightly, hoisting her up as she wraps her legs around his waist instinctively. He won't let her mouth go. The kiss is bruising, slick and hungry, their breathes tangled between them, their tongues harsh and desperate against each other's. Shepard grinds her hips against his as he holds her up against the wall and he nearly breaks right then, one of his hands moving from her legs to grip tightly in her hair, holding her there. He moans along her tongue, shaking against her, and he can barely hold it back any longer.

He turns them swiftly to the bed and falls into her, tangling in the sheets as he lands atop her. Their mouths break apart at the jostle and he is searching for her lips once more. Her mouth. Her fucking mouth. Hot and wet. Thane rocks his hips into hers uncontrollably and shudders at her keening whimper, her knees sliding up to brace on either side of him.

His mouth drags down her throat and along her chest. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he breathes against her skin. "I didn't –"

"Shut up," she mutters desperately, her fingers fumbling with the latch of his pants. "Just – fuck!" She throws her head back as his mouth closes around a nipple, her back arching, her moan dragging along her lips. She pants heatedly, one hand gripping the sheets tightly. "Fuck, just…Oh God." She quivers at the slick, warm swipe of his tongue. Her hands are reaching frantically for him, pulling him back up to her so she can push her tongue deep into his mouth again, needy and frenzied and so fucking wet. It is so utterly devouring that Thane has to curl his hands into the sheets and brace himself to keep from losing it right then, to keep from shattering at the devastating way she sucked on his tongue . He bucks into her, hard, reckless.

She tears her mouth from his to look at him, her eyes dark and hooded, her tongue darting out to taste him on her lips. His resulting rumble of desire reverberates all the way down to her bones, his eyes fixed on her swollen mouth. "I don't care," she hisses, her body arching into his. "Just don't fucking stop."

She doesn't let him answer. She claims his lips once more, and he responds in kind, pushing into her, his hand sliding down the smooth length of her to where their hips are joined.

He doesn't stop. He doesn't stop until their throats are raw with each other's names.


	13. Dead Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She takes another life. And another. And another. Until they are insignificant. Until they are gone from her mind. Until she feels nothing." - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS! There is major character death ahead. I'm sorry. But it's war. And it's realistic. And I will miss them just as much as you but some of them will die. I hope you still like how I tackled the end of the second game. Please enjoy.

Sheparding Men

Chapter Thirteen: Dead Ends

" _She takes another life. And another. And another. Until they are insignificant. Until they are gone from her mind. Until she feels nothing."_ \- A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

Shepard breathes softly, watching Thane as they lay on her bed, facing each other, curled in on each other. Her hand is resting between them, grazing his lips as he smiles at her, his own hand languidly stretching over her naked waist to her hip. She sighs at the sensation, brushing closer to him as his fingers trail imaginary lines over her skin. Her head rests on his other arm as it curls around her back. The sheet lays forgotten at the end of the bed, their clothes spread across the floor.

Shepard glimpses behind him and sees the trailing rays of light outside her window, a reminder of their flight. She swallows tightly, the quiet bloom of dread unfolding within her when she thinks of the Collector Base on the other side of the Omega Four Relay. The other side of distant stars. The unknown.

Thane can sense the trepidation lingering beneath her features and he plants a soft kiss on her fingers.

She smiles.

"You must know by now," he begins, "the effect you have on me."

Her smile blending into a smirk, she drops her fingers to light along his chest. "I'm beginning to see it."

He is silent and thoughtful for a moment, his eyes dark on hers. "It seems even my best efforts to stay away are fruitless."

Her smirk fades and she looks to her hand on his chest. "Why did you?" she breathes softly.

He sighs. "I spoke with Garrus."

Her eyes fly up to catch his. "What?" She groans. "When I get a hold of that turian – "

"You misunderstand. His only thoughts were of you," Thane interrupts gently, and then stops. Because he did not come to her cabin tonight to speak of Garrus.

She eyes him questioningly for a moment, her lips parted in confusion. "Then what…?"

He swallows thickly. "I knew of your return to the first Normandy's wreckage. And of a 'Kaidan Alenko' you were to meet there, someone from your first crew."

The steady thrum of unease lights beneath her skin but she stays quiet.

He continues, his fingers running along her hip, his eyes trailing the movement. "But I did not know the nature of your relationship with him. And so I asked Garrus."

"Why?" She doesn't understand the slight frustration lining her words, but it's there all the same.

His eyes flick back to hers, steady, unflinching. "Not out of any sense of jealousy I assure you. You already gave yourself to me. I never doubted that."

The tension in her shoulders lessens minutely.

"I asked, because I could sense something in you that I had not known before. When you returned from Alchera. I cannot place it. I have no words that could aptly describe the sensation but you were…adrift. And there was hurt there that I did not understand, though I wanted to." He sighs softly in the space between them, his eyes never leaving hers. "I wanted to understand so that I could ease whatever suffering it was. And then I discovered you and he were lovers."

She swallows thickly, her fingers curling against his chest. "Yeah. 'Were'. Not anymore. Not for a while now."

He nods knowingly. "My selfishness became suddenly apparent to me."

She blinks at him. "What? That doesn't even – I mean, what?"

The arm wrapped around her back tightens slightly, hugging her even more surely to him. "I was weak. Powerless against the growing passion you have awakened in me. I did not want to give that – or you – up. But when I think what you have lost because of it." He pauses then, his lids blinking furiously, his mouth parted with words so heavy he can taste them along his tongue. Dragging. Branded in loss he isn't ready for. "I felt that being with me, knowing our time is limited, would not be fair to you. Not when you have the possibility of love elsewhere." Though his touch is sure, there is something hesitant in his eyes, the way they flick over her face and rest along her hair, the quick blinking, the uncertainty screaming silently at her.

Shepard nestles closer so that she is a breath away. "Maybe what I had with Kaidan…wasn't the right love."

"This may not be either." He says it so tenderly, as though she will break. As though _he_ will break. His hand stills along her side, his fingers gripping the flesh of her hip in sudden keening need.

Her eyes soften, and her hand moves from his chest to rest along the smooth skin of his cheek. "It is right now. And that's all I need."

His brows furrow, his words lost to him.

She runs her thumb along his cheek. "All I know is that I want this. And that it _feels_ right. I'm not letting that go, for however long I can have it." She licks her lips and stares him down. "All that bullshit earlier? About it being a mistake? About how this all ends? I won't stand for it. You said you were mine. I don't care for how long." Her words end on a shaky exhale. "I don't care for how long," she repeats in a whisper, the words lodging tight in her chest like an anchor. A promise.

His eyes slide closed, a chuckle at her forcefulness falling from his lips, even as the shame is apparent on his face. "One day, Siha – perhaps even tonight – I will have to leave you." He swallows thickly as the words leave him. He thinks of the uncertainty the Omega Four Relay brings. The idea that this moment, this embrace, may be all they will have left when the battle is done. The blinding fear that thought elicits is all he can taste for one long moment. All he can feel.

"Perhaps you will," she barely gets out, her hand urging his face up so that he opens his eyes to look at her. So that she can place a short-lived, tender kiss along his lips. So that she can tuck her head beneath his chin and wrap her arm around him. "But not like that," she whispers into him. "Never like that."

He can only hold her. His chest pressed to hers. The frantic, painful throb of their hearts against each other. The unyielding hold of his arms around her. The way he sighs into her hair and nothing, _nothing_ , has ever felt so right.

So needed.

So inescapable.

"I promise," he answers finally. Achingly. With the subtle tremble of regret.

She holds onto him and doesn't let go.

* * *

They break through the field of debris just past the Omega Four Relay. The Collector base is dark and imposing in the distance, silhouetted in gleaming, haunting light.

Shepard suits up. Her crew follows.

Joker's alarmed voice fills the Normandy and Shepard is racing for the cargo hold to take down the drones.

* * *

Kasumi dies on impact with the Collector base.

Shepard finds the thief's body, scorched and bloody from an explosion in main engineering. She stands over her, hands bunching tightly into fists at her side.

There is the slow and steady stream of blood dripping from Kasumi's broken form, her eyes peeled toward the ceiling, her mouth set in a silent open gape.

Barely started and already.

Dead.

Shepard rolls the word along her tongue. It tastes like copper. She squats beside the former thief, her chest heavy with her dragging breath, her mouth set in a tight line. She reaches a trembling hand up to slide Kasumi's lids closed.

For Kasumi's sake, Shepard prays for an afterlife.

And she prays Keiji is there too.

* * *

"Joker." Shepard braces a hand against the wall behind the pilot's seat, her crew readying at the airlock just behind her.

Joker does not turn from his console. He continues working. "Commander."

She sighs, her free hand gripping her helmet tightly. "About earlier…"

"Just get them back, Commander."

She sees his fingers still over the terminal, the subtle sag of his shoulders. He does not turn to look at her. She lets out a soft chuckle, feeling a smirk he cannot see pull at her lips. She nods. Mostly to herself. "EDI." She pushes from the wall and pats the old girl once for luck.

"Yes, Shepard?"

"Keep him safe." She turns and walks toward the airlock.

"I always do." EDI's answer floats back to her through the cockpit.

* * *

When she drops down from the airlock of the Normandy to the hull of the Collector base, she looks instinctively to Garrus where he exits from the far side of the ship, the second team trailing behind him. They share a look. A nod. And she knows she has made the right decision.

She trusts him above all others to keep her crew safe.

But more importantly, to get the job done. No matter the cost.

She knew going in. She knew that some of them wouldn't make it back, if any of them. But she also knew she was going to finish this. One way or another.

She unlocks her Widow sniper rifle from her back holster, calling into her comm. link. "You ready, Vakarian?"

She can hear his chuckle through the radio. "You just worry about making it to the rendezvous. Don't want to beat you there and make you look bad."

She can't see his smirk from across the cold hull of the Collector ship. But the sound of his laugh is enough to settle her. She cocks the loading mechanism on her sniper. "You couldn't make me look bad if you tried."

"You're right. You do it well enough yourself."

She is about to let off another quip when Zaeed and Jack step up behind her, nodding their readiness. She shakes her head and cracks into the comm. link, "I'll see you on the other side, smartass."

His chuckle is her answer, and the image of him is lost in smoke and debris, the second team blurring out of view. She looks ahead at the entrance in the Collector ship before her. "Legion, you there?"

There is a short burst of static, and then the geth's unaffected voice is sifting through her radio. "At the tunnel entrance, Shepard-Commander. Ready for infiltration, on your mark."

"Alright, guys," she sighs into her comm. link. "Make 'em bleed for it."

* * *

"Legion! Get that fucking door open!" Shepard's shout through the comm. link is drowned out on her side by the raging hail of gunfire. She is bunkered down behind a barrier, having tumbled behind it when she realized the door she had run to was still sealed shut. Jack and Zaeed are still a few barriers back, further from the door.

Zaeed lets off a round of assault rifle fire and then lobs an inferno grenade into a crowd of Collectors as he sprints for Shepard's same cover. Jack lets off a wide Shockwave to tumble the burning, screeching Collectors off the edge of the hall, giving Zaeed cover to jump over the barrier and scramble beside Shepard.

"Hurry the fuck up, you stupid hunk of metal!" Jack roars into the comm. link, letting off a blast of her shotgun into the fray. More Collectors are dropping in, the open corridor slowly filling.

Shepard leans out of cover and takes one out with her Widow. She activates the Incinerate on her omni-tool and a bright gleam of fire bursts forth, sailing into the crouched Collectors behind the closest barrier. Several of them explode into fiery bits. She switches to her pistol quickly, gauging the slow advance of the Collectors.

"Legion!" she shouts again, the indiscernible crackle of his answer and Garrus' voice coming in over the line. The door is still sealed.

The battle is all quickness and labored breathes and the bright, burning flare of biotics and tech throughout the corridor. Shepard ducks from particle beams, her blood rushing violently through her, her pistol loud and echoing to her as she fires from cover.

"Damn it," she curses, watching the incoming Collectors light along the platforms, close to overwhelming Jack's position. "Jack!" she calls. "Fall back!"

Shepard and Zaeed lean out from their barrier to cover Jack's retreat. As soon as Zaeed's grenade goes off Jack runs for it, throwing her hand back to let off a Warp at the following Collectors. Her boots thump along the corridor, pounding, quick and fierce. Shepard is taking out two Collectors aiming for the biotic when she hears Jack's scream. A particle beam rips through her ribs and the biotic drops to the floor with a grunt of pain, her chin colliding forcefully with the ground.

"Jack!" Shepard calls, rising out of cover only to drop back down when a beam narrowly misses her.

Jack groans in pain, lifting her head up to catch Shepard and Zaeed not far from her, her hand still clutching tightly to her shotgun. She manages to drag herself behind the barrier beside her, the explosive sounds of the battle thunderous around her.

Shepard cannot move from cover, the Collectors bearing down on them. Her teeth are grit, chest heaving painfully with her breaths. She catches Jack's gaze as the biotic slumps behind the barrier, blood flooding over her chin from her broken mouth, her left side burned and bleeding.

She sees Shepard itching to run to her, gauging the distance between her and the incoming enemy. "Don't you fucking do it," Jack seethes through a bloody cough, only feet away. "Or I swear to fucking God I will kill you myself, Shepard." She braces a hand along the barrier and hauls herself up.

"Jack, no!"

But Zaeed grabs her shoulder and shoves her back down.

Jack roars in fury and lets off three rounds of her shotgun into the nearest Collectors, her whole body blazing blue. She takes a bullet to the shoulder, jerking back with a cry of pain, her power flooding down her other arm to release in one last brilliant Shockwave. The Collectors before her are flown about the corridor and she collapses to the ground after two more bullets rip through her chest. She is dead before she hits the floor.

Shepard is flooded with a dangerous wrath.

And then the door opens behind her with a harsh rush of wind.

She reacts instantly. "Suppressing fire! Suppressing fire!" She can hear her crewmates' guns just beside and behind her, and she is back-treading into the other corridor, Zaeed following.

"Close it! Now!" Garrus yells above the chaos to Legion, coming up beside Shepard. They unleash their weapons and omni-tools on the advancing Collectors.

"There is a malfunction," Legion answers, moving to manually push the door closed after he releases the locks. Grunt pushes from the other side and the door slides shut just after Shepard sees it. The Collector with a rocket launcher. Legion is blasted back as the door closes. The geth's optic light is blown clean off, all shredded wires and burning metal. It slumps to the floor, the ever-present whirling of mechanics suddenly still. Suddenly silent.

Shepard can only look at it, breath raking harshly through her chest, her heart pounding, her whole body shaking with the adrenaline. She gulps down that stinging slice of regret and raises her head.

Jack's body is broken and bloody behind the door. Unreachable. Legion is cold and unmoving at her feet. The worn pad of her old N7 armor is seared and blackened from the rocket's explosion.

She blinks back the sudden searing wetness along her eyes, pulling a heavy breath in, and locks her pistol to her hip, grabbing for her Widow once more. She looks around at the rest of her crew, still alive, still breathing, still fighting.

Her eyes alight on Thane. "We keep moving."

* * *

"Jacob, you're taking the crew back." Shepard nods to Dr. Chakwas and the others behind her.

Jacob opens his mouth to object, his brows furrowed, and then he stops himself. He stops himself when he notices the look in Shepard's eyes.

He doesn't have anyone waiting for him back home. He doesn't have _anything_ waiting for him really. But this. This he can do. Take down the Collector base. At all costs. He's ready for it. He believes in it.

He's prepared to die for it if necessary.

Shepard looks at him and she knows. Hell, part of her wishes it was he who died instead of Kasumi. Instead of Jack. Even instead of Legion. And yet, part of her hates that she thinks like this. She might not agree with most (anything) he says. She might bristle at his attitude, his insubordination, his constant challenging of her.

But really, she knows where it comes from. She knows it's not a place of malice. Or indifference. She knows he cares. Sometimes too much and not about the right things but she sees something in him. A protector. A shield. She's not stupid enough to disregard that when she understands how much it is needed in this moment.

She doesn't have to like him. She just needs to trust him.

"Jacob," she starts, voice hard, unflinching. "I know you're the right man for the job. I know you'll keep them safe."

He clamps his mouth shut at her words. It takes him a moment, and then the rush of adrenaline is back. That heated, anxious urge to keep fighting, keep running. He looks around his comrades, nods his farewells and calls to Dr. Chakwas and the others to follow. His shoutgun is out, his whole body encased in blue, the power of his biotics thrumming along his spine. He gives one last look to Shepard before he is off. "Stay alive, Commander."

He means it.

And she knows.

* * *

Samara's brilliant shield of biotic energy is crackling and pulsing around Shepard as they make their second trek through the Collector base. Grunt's bellows of rage and bouts of laughter eclipse Mordin's quick bursts of observation. The four of them press on through the seeker swarms beneath Samara's barrier.

When they reach the end of the corridor, Shepard can practically taste the acrid, burning power of Samara's biotic energy flooding around them. The Justicar pulls her arms in on herself, her body quaking with the power, her teeth grit painfully. Samara throws her arms out in one last burst, a thunderous vibration that rocks the corridor with her release, blinding blue light flooding the space around them and propelling any remaining seeker swarms or following Collectors away.

The Justicar straightens her shoulders, flinging her arms back to her sides, a heavy satisfied breath pulling through her lungs as she stalks back through the door with Shepard, Grunt and Mordin.

Shepard drops a hand of acknowledgement on the asari's shoulder as the door slides shut behind them. They share a smile of gratitude, and then Shepard is counting the remainder of her crew once Miranda's team joins them.

She does not allow herself the breath of relief when she finds everyone still accounted for. They continue on.

* * *

She brings Tali and Thane with her into the central chamber to overload the main control console. Tali, because it means something to have someone who's been there from the beginning. And Thane.

Thane because she needs him.

She knows it's selfish. She doesn't care. She will not go into this without him. If she dies it's with him.

She needs Garrus leading the others. She needs Garrus to get them out alive.

But Thane she needs for herself. She will not relinquish that.

* * *

There is a moment where the bile rises in Shepard's throat, sharp and overwhelming and searing the words along her tongue. When she takes in the image of the human Reaper. Her whole body alights with fury. She can taste the wrath along her tongue.

The bright blaring light of its eyes lands on her.

She lets out a war cry that rattles all the way through to her bones.

* * *

Shepard rather likes the undignified noise the Illusive Man makes when she hangs up on him.

* * *

Shepard is sliding down the length of a falling platform, her arm outstretched, Tali flailing wildly below her as they glide swiftly toward the edge.

No.

Not Tali.

Shepard's hand locks around the quarian's just as the platform levels off. She cries out with the pain of it, her elbow locking with the weight of Tali flying over the edge. Her fingers clench tightly around Tali's.

She will not let her go.

They crash into the hollow base of the ship and everything goes black for a single terrifying moment.

* * *

She is running. Boots pounding fiercely along the corridor. Thane and Tali are sprinting beside her, letting off rounds into the trailing seeker swarms and Collectors.

They are alive.

She feels the blinding, encompassing power that thought fills her with and she has never run faster in her life.

Her calves ache, her joints stiff and enflamed from the crash, the fight, everything. Her abdomen is searing under the pain of broken ribs. Her breath is tight in her chest, her lungs clenching forcefully around every puff of air. She is sweat-lined and ragged beneath her armor.

But nothing can stop her now.

She sees the end of the corridor open toward the image of a light-encased Normandy. Garrus and the second team are running out of an adjacent corridor just ahead of her, many of them bloody and limping. She looks back and swings her pistol arm toward the oncoming enemies, releasing her heat sink on them with a raging bellow. Thane flings a Warp back. Tali's omni-tool is bright with the release of her drone.

Garrus and Miranda are already leaping off the hanging platform toward the open airlock of the Normandy. Mordin, Samara and Zaeed veer out of the adjoining corridor as soon as Shepard reaches them and they almost collide. She stumbles to a halt, flinging herself behind one of the walls to aim into the flood of the Collectors following them, allowing the others cover to make it onto the Normandy. Zaeed takes the opposite wall, firing into the swarm. Shepard urges Thane and Tali past her and sees them join Mordin and Samara jumping over the expanse into the Normandy's airlock.

She looks down the corridor frantically, letting off an Incinerate into the hall of Collectors. "Grunt?" she calls heatedly to Zaeed, glancing over to see the mercenary's tight grimace.

"Didn't make it," he calls over the chaos of their firing weapons. "Goddamn krogan's the only reason the rest of us got the hell out."

Shepard blinks furiously down the path of trailing enemies, her heart clenching tightly. But she moves quickly, shoving down that aching grief that claws at her unexpectedly. Later. She needs to feel it later. Her mind shifts back into the fight instantly, breaking from the wall. "Grenades!" she calls, and Zaeed follows her command without hesitance, lobbing his inferno grenade into the fray and turning to join her in sprinting toward the mouth of the open corridor.

Again, she is running.

Running. Heart pounding. Lungs clenching. Muscles trembling.

Running.

Zaeed makes the jump. She is moments behind him.

Flying. Falling.

Arms flailing through the air.

She catches the edge of the airlock and Mordin is grasping for her arm, smiling into her face, a green smear of blood across his cheek.

Her heart releases its breath.

* * *

Shepard is quiet for many minutes in her cabin as she simply breathes. Simply stands. Watching the undulating lights backdropping her empty fish tank. The room is flooded in dim blue. She blinks. She doesn't know how long she stands there.

Silent. Unmoving.

It takes her several moments before she even attempts to remove her armor. She reaches for her helmet, slowly, ignoring the dull ache of the broken fingers along her left hand. She takes a wheezing breath in under the heaviness of her broken ribs. She unlatches the lock on her helmet and the rush of cold air that seeps in is sudden and jarring.

Kasumi's dead eyes trained on the ceiling.

Jack's bloody jaw and shredded chest.

Legion's burning wires and darkened N7 patch.

And Grunt.

She doesn't even know how he died.

She feels the rage and the helplessness choking her, clawing at her throat until it releases itself in a desperate roar. She flings her helmet across the room and it crashes into her bedside table, shattering the glasses there.

She's going to be sick.

Shepard reaches a hand for the edge of her table as the vomit rises suddenly, without warning. She retches violently onto the floor, stumbling along her desk as her body shakes with the tremors. Again. And again. Heaving so intensely that the tears spring to her eyes unbidden, her face flushing red. She tastes the bitter, sickly film of bile along her tongue and coughs into her hand, her legs finally giving out.

She drops to her knees, grunting at the pain to her bruised body. Her hand slides off the edge of the desk as her stomach convulses with muscles spasms.

She screams.

Ragged and raking and wounded. Over and over. Echoing sharply in her cabin. Her throat is raw with it. Until she is sure it is blood she tastes. Until the screams break and die in her throat. Until there is nothing but choked silence and blinding tears and the bitter stench of her vomit lining the cabin floor. Until she has fractured and fallen away.

She made it back.

She made it back and it should feel good. Rewarding. Triumphant.

But there is only pain.

There is only emptiness.

* * *

She wakes screaming in the night and Thane holds her to him until the exhaustion finally takes her.

* * *

Garrus finds Shepard in the Port Observation lounge after the make-shift funerals and the jettisoning of empty pods in honor of their fallen comrades. She sits along the back of one of the couches, her boots along the seat, her back to the cool glass of the wall-length window behind her. She dangles a glass of scotch in her hands between her knees, taking intermittent sips. He is suddenly reminded of a time months ago when he sat with her thus and she had confessed her bitterness about being resurrected.

She lifts a brow to him in acknowledgement and then turns her gaze back to the window behind her. Garrus makes his way to the couch and takes a similar seat beside her.

"Hey." It is all he can muster.

She raises her glass in greeting, but does not take her eyes off the dark space gleaming past the window.

Garrus swallows, adjusts his left arm in its sling, his other hand planting itself along his knee. "Where's Thane?"

Shepard flicks her gaze to him at the question. "Where he usually is. Life Support."

His mandibles flutter softly as he cocks his head to her. "I would have thought he'd be with you." He leans back against the glass. "Since…well." He tapers off.

Shepard leans off of the window and rests her elbows along her knees, taking a slow sip of her scotch. She relishes the burn as it slides down her throat. "He was at first. Wanted to help. You know, _distract_ me. But fuck meditating." Her gaze falls to the glass in her hand, chuckling beneath her breath. It is a dark and resigned sound, her cheeks tinged pink from the alcohol. "I've got my own therapy." She takes another sip, this time longer. This time finishing her glass.

Garrus nods knowingly but stays silent.

"Besides," she continues, taking in a steadying breath. "They were his friends too. And we each hurt in different ways. Right now he needs the meditation and I…I just wanted to be alone."

Garrus blinks at her, tapping his talons along his knee for a moment. Then, silently, he moves to stand. "I understand, Shepard."

Her hand is catching his wrist before he can lower himself to the floor.

He looks back at her.

"I…" she stops, swallows, her eyes burning with tears she will not shed. She swallows thickly and clears her throat. "I didn't mean you." She stares at him, her hold of his wrist almost trembling. Everything in her face screams desperation and need and helplessness.

He slowly sits back down.

Shepard looks to where her fingers grip the rough plated skin of his arm. She cannot release it. And she cannot take her eyes from it. She opens her mouth. Hesitates. And then, "How did Grunt die?"

Garrus sucks a soft breath in and looks away. "Does it matter?"

She is angry suddenly. "Of course it fucking does." Her fingers grip tighter. "Tell me how." She needs to know. Needs to lock it away somewhere in her heart where she can try to call it grief. Where she can hold it forever.

Garrus levels a dark look her way, and his throat tightens under the pressure of words he doesn't think should feel familiar. But they are. They always will be. "Dead is dead, Shepard. It won't bring him back." He hates it. Spirits, does he hate it. But hating it doesn't make it any less true.

Shepard narrows her eyes at him, a hot breath of air blown through her nose. She releases her hold of his arm and pushes off the couch, staggering slightly from the sudden motion and the warm alcohol flooding her system. She steadies herself, huffing in frustration, and moves to the bar to refill her glass. "I fucking know that, Garrus. Don't you think I fucking know that?" She collides softly with the edge of the bar and reaches for the bottle of scotch along the tabletop.

From where he sits a few feet behind her, he can see the heavy, dark bruising along her bare shoulder, where the marks disappear down below her tank top. He imagines her whole back is flooded in similar discoloration. Dark and bloodied skin. Aching. Tender. She moves with the jerky, hindered motions of practiced pain.

She fumbles with the bottle when her wrapped and splinted fingers try to grasp the glass. "Shit. Fucking…shit fingers." She manages a shaky pour that is heavier than Garrus thinks he's ever seen her take. "Tell me."

He moves his gaze to the other wall, the talons of his good hand moving to rub at the plates above his eyes. "Just let it rest, Shepard."

"I want to fucking know!" she yells, turning sharply to face him, her shout reverberating off the walls. She takes a large gulp of her scotch and stares him down.

He sighs, but does not look at her. His eyes narrow. "Why?"

"Just fucking tell me." Another large gulp.

" _Why_?" he repeats, a harsh breath.

"JUST FUCKING TELL ME!" she screeches, throwing her glass across the room so that it smashes against the wall, the amber liquid splattering along the floor with the shattered glass. Everything around her is breaking these days. Splintered. Ruptured.

There are pieces of her life laying everywhere. Dark and irreparable.

Garrus shoves off the couch and stalks up to her, breaths heaving dangerously now as he halts just before her. "Praetorians," he growls, inches from her face. "Two of them. We were cornered. Grunt took a belt of grenades and rushed them. There was nothing left of him but what was splashed along the walls." He regrets the harshness of the words even as he is powerless to stop them. He glares down at her wild eyes, not understanding this anger that has rooted inside him.

Too many gone.

On Omega. On the Collector base. And everywhere in between. He doesn't want to see the deaths anymore. He doesn't know why she needs it.

Shepard closes her eyes and pulls in a slow breath. She reaches behind her toward the table, steadying herself. She is nodding. Like she knows.

Garrus eyes her. It's like she fucking _knows_. Something sinks inside him.

When she opens her eyes her words are steadier than either of them thought possible. "I'd expect nothing less." She swallows tightly, the warmth of the scotch still lining her throat, pooling harshly in her gut where everything twists and churns and feels like a slow dying.

Where she feels the weight of the past like a fucking rock in her gut. Like a weighted stone. Heavy and immovable and dragging her deeper.

She moves a hand to her chest and bunches the material of her tank top in her grip. Her face crumbles before him.

Garrus' eyes soften, the tension bunched in his shoulders slowly lessening. He moves a hand toward her and she turns away. His throat is tight with words he wants to say but knows are pointless. Useless. Nothing but dust in the wake of their grief.

So he says the only thing he can. "I'm sorry."

She is shaking her head, eyes turned to the window. It is dark and empty in the space outside. She releases a soft, shaky breath. "Me too." Her voice breaks with the words. The choked sound of a sob falls from her lips and she holds her hand to her mouth to quiet the sudden unexpected noise. She squeezes her eyes shut and chokes another sob into her hand. "God am I sorry." It is muffled in her palm. Everything is suddenly rushing from within her. Forceful and uncontrollable and blanketed in the devastating sounds of her cries.

Garrus reaches for her and does not let her turn away again. He holds her to his chest with his one good arm. He whispers "I'm sorry" once more, this time into her hair. This time his own voice cracking. It is so futile and so useless. The soft hush of words that have always seemed right, even when they were so wrong. The tender offer of easing pain that can never _be_ eased. Never be lessened. Never be shared. Such inadequate words.

But it is all he can say.

"I'm sorry."

She very nearly breaks.

* * *

Shepard jumps at the chance of a solo mission into the Bahak System. Aside from her genuine urge to help Admiral Hackett's friend, Dr. Amanda Kenson, there is also her burning rage for the Reapers. A rage that has not been satisfied.

She needs to kill something. She cannot do that on the Normandy.

And she cannot do it with her crew.

The loss is still fresh. The grief is still stark and vibrant.

Alone, she can lose herself in the mission.

Alone, she can take the necessary risks.

Alone, she can try to sift through this unending, piercing pain.

She needs this.

Or she will lose herself.

* * *

She manages wave after wave of the project guards and engineers under Dr. Kenson's command, the shifting power of Object Rho flooding through the room. She doesn't know how long she lasts. How long she fights under the haze of adrenaline and anger. When the darkness finally takes her and she slumps down a wall, her vision slowly inking black, she finds unconsciousness faintly welcomed.

* * *

There is a moment, a fraction of a second, when she wonders how it all got so fucked up. Her hand hovers over the terminal keys that will lock in the asteroid's course into the Alpha Relay. She can see the relay from where she stands behind the wall-length window in the control room. Alarms are blaring all around her. A trail of dead bodies lay behind her throughout the station. Her eyes glance to the image projector along the console, where the blinking orb of Aratoht flashes.

Three hundred thousand dead at the push of a button.

At her command.

She hesitates, swallows thickly, her other hand gripping tightly to her Widow sniper rifle.

Her eyes find the blaring countdown clock.

There isn't enough time. There's _never_ enough time. They are, all of them, doomed.

Shepard blinks. She takes a single, full breath and pushes everything down. Further and further. Deep. Until she cannot recognize herself anymore.

She presses the enter key on the console. It is oddly satisfying. In a sick and terrifying way.

She doesn't waste any more time. She makes her way quickly through the deteriorating station, killing anyone in her path. Her movements are instant, reflexive, without the dragging burden of thought or remorse. She is all dangerous intent and unstoppable firepower. Finding her way to the landing pads for evacuation.

She takes another life. And another. And another. Until they are insignificant. Until they are gone from her mind. Until she feels nothing.

She looks up at the closing image of the Alpha Relay, the wind harsh and whipping around her. Farther off in the distance she sees Aratoht.

She feels nothing.

It is the only way she survives this.

* * *

When Admiral Hackett walks from the Normandy's Med Bay, Shepard leans in silence against one of the beds, her hands bracing herself against the edge at her back. She stares at the floor.

It is still and calm in the room, empty. Only the ever-present subtle whirling of the doctor's instruments heard.

She is going to Earth.

And it has been so long.

It evokes a strange sense of longing and nostalgia, even beneath the weighted knowledge of her inevitable confinement. She does not go unwillingly. She wonders, if maybe she has been gone for too long. She doesn't care for a trial or interrogation or any questioning of her integrity or methods. But she understands what she did. She understands that someone must answer for those three hundred thousand batarians.

Dead.

All of them.

She tries to feel remorse. Truly she does. And some part of her, the part that screams silently inside, still sees the blood on her hands and cringes. But it is not enough. It's not enough to simply _know_. Because she still did it. And she doesn't regret it.

She thinks maybe death has been her purpose all along. Her whole life, a head-long rush into dead ends. Finality. Inescapable ruin.

She thinks _family_ and _Ashley_ and _Grunt_. She thinks of Legion. Of Jack and Kasumi.

She thinks of herself, floating, dead and fractured, through cold space.

She feels the steady, familiar weight of it nestle somewhere in her heart where even she cannot reach. Everything slips into place. She blinks through the dull ache. Finds a reassuring calm and purpose to the feeling, the resignation. The knowledge.

The comforting embrace of shadow.

She is going to Earth.

Shepard pulls in a steady, knowing breath.

When the Reapers come, she will finally be ready.


	14. Needed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'Don't think the Reapers have been stopped, son. Don't think you're going to make it out alive,' she whispers surely, her mouth a thin line." - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

Sheparding Men

Chapter Fourteen: Needed

"' _Don't think the Reapers have been stopped, son. Don't think you're going to make it out alive,' she whispers surely, her mouth a thin line."_ \- A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

Shepard spends her days preparing. Her superiors have brushed her concerns aside. They have disregarded her warnings. They have left their world open to the Reapers. But Shepard knows. Even when the words are not spoken aloud. Even when the Alliance placates her with promises of "investigations". She knows. And she plans on being ready when the Reapers come to Earth. She will face them alone if she needs to. But she will face them ready.

Shepard is allowed on the gun range. She goes every day. She practices her aim, keeps her reflexes sharp. Her body is disciplined and senses heightened. She spends her hours in the on-base gym and the practice rings with other soldiers. She will not let the Alliance's grounding of her and the Normandy reduce her to uselessness. She does not have the clearance to access sensitive Alliance fleet data or information on movement within the galaxy. She relies on the limited hints that Anderson and her head of security detail James Vega drop, both knowingly and not. She pays attention. She listens. She watches the officers in the mess, keeps her ear to the ground, files away every minute bit of information she can.

And she cooperates. Grudgingly. The investigation into her actions in the Aratoht system is slow-going, mostly, she figures, from Hackett's influence. But the restrictions are still enforced regularly. Her command has been taken away, her ship grounded in dock, and even her correspondence halted. Throughout all this she thinks of one thing. Her crew. Their faces when they had docked on Omega to drop off all non-previously-Alliance members, where they would book passage to their respective destinations and the Normandy would set off for Earth to surrender to the Alliance.

She remembers Samara's look of cool admiration, the soft hint of a smirk that told of her respect as she nodded. The fast-blinking eyes of Mordin, his close-lipped smile oddly comforting and innocent. Tali's lingering hug, the quarian's fingers along her shoulders as she squeezed her close. Zaeed's gruff goodbye and clamping of her shoulder. Miranda's firm handshake and grateful smirk. Jacob's whole-hearted salute, mouth in a tight line. The playful cock of Garrus' head as he teased her and nudged her with his elbow, his eyes dark and hesitant. The feel of Thane's lips on hers, his fingers threading through her hair, and then his promise of their reunion whispered against her ear.

These are the things she remembers. When she wakes in the night, breathless and sweat-drenched, these are the things she remembers. When she sees the deaths before her closed lids like a lingering threat. When she spends her days simply trying to breathe. Simply trying not to break.

Commander Shepard promises herself that she will see them once more.

Even if it's to die beside them.

* * *

Shepard is leaving the gym late at night. She makes her way to the exit and finds James leaning back against the wall holding the door, watching her approach. He pushes off the wall as she nears, uncrossing his arms.

She sighs, pulling the towel from around her neck and dropping it into the laundry bin by the door. She stops just before him. "The stalking's starting to become a little ridiculous, don't you think?"

He only smirks, one shoulder lifted in a nonchalant shrug. "Orders. Got to be accompanied, Commander."

She frowns at his address, brows knitted tight. "I'm not your commander, Vega." The words are harsher than she intends, filled with the knotted anger that simmers constantly within her.

He cocks a brow her way, moving to sweep an arm toward the door as he lets her walk past, seemingly unaffected by her curt tone. "Maybe not mine, but still."

"Not anyone's," she grumbles, stalking through the door and into the blissfully cool night.

James takes up a gait beside her. "No matter what those suits say, you're still Commander Shepard to me. To a lot of us. Still the Hero of the Citadel, the –"

"Don't," she growls lowly, stopping and whipping her face to his.

His words die in his throat as he stops as well, brows furrowed in confusion at her.

She swallows thickly and stares him down, errant dark curls plastered to her face with her sweat. Her hands unconsciously clench into fists at her side, and then slowly unclench. "Don't try to glamorize it. Don't try to…" she trails off, her nostrils flaring. She shakes her head. "I don't save people, Lieutenant. I just outlast them." She licks her lips and finds them trembling slightly. Blinks the sweat from her eyes and glares at him.

James keeps his gaze steady on her, leans his weight back on one leg. "I didn't mean anything by it, Commander. Just that…that you have my respect. I was honored to be picked for this assignment." He says it so sincerely she almost feels sorry for him.

She must look away. She turns her gaze past him, to look around the empty Alliance compound in the dark night. She focuses on the subtle breeze brushing past. The steady, low thrum of street lights along the pavement. She huffs softly and moves to start walking again. "I'm not here to awe you, Lieutenant. You've been gravely misinformed if you thought you were babysitting a _war hero_ ," she sneers. "Don't be so naïve."

He huffs in mild frustration as he paces up beside her again. "Heard you were prickly. Guess you're not just another pretty face." There is humor lacing his words that irritates her.

She shoots a dangerous look his way and keeps moving. "You're awfully inappropriate, Lieutenant." Her voice is low.

"Most would call it charming."

"Most are idiots," she snaps.

"Ah," he teases, "but usually they're _appreciative_ idiots."

"I'm neither." She doesn't even look at him.

James rolls his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh. "Tough room," he mutters. He is silent then for many minutes as they walk toward the barracks. Shepard takes a moment to be grateful for the silence and then he is speaking again, this time low and cautious. This time lined with something she is hesitant to call concern.

"Also heard you've seen some shit," he says carefully.

Her jaw clenches but she doesn't answer him.

Reaching back to rub at his neck, James watches her out of the corner of his eye. "No way I could have done what you did, Commander. And I've seen some shit myself." He pauses a moment, his eyes moving to the ground and Shepard takes the moment to look at him.

His eyes are blank, uninviting, almost dangerous. She knows that look. She's seen it in the mirror enough times to recognize it. She keeps her mouth shut. Doesn't question.

Suddenly she remembers screaming at Garrus in the observation lounge and throwing her glass clear across the room.

James clears his throat and continues. "I just mean…well, I know what it feels like to lose people."

Her first instinct is to clam up. To shutter her gaze with cold remoteness. To snap something dismissive and rude. Her first instinct is to shut down that tired, beaten part of her that tells her nothing lasts.

She pulls a heady breath through her nose and pushes it back out through her mouth. Steady. Slow. She grinds her teeth and keeps her gaze ahead. "None of that matters." Her words are clipped and full of resignation. "None of it can compare to what's coming."

James glances at her quickly, his eyes searching.

She feels his gaze on her and offers the firm confidence of her own stare. He looks like sunlight and eagerness and everything unsalvageable in this world. "Don't think you've seen the worst of it." She offers a dark chuckle, an almost-scoff. "Don't think the Reapers have been stopped, son. That there isn't destruction and horror waiting for us all."

They make it to the door of her barracks and stop. She offers him one last look, and this time, there is something sad and regretful to her gaze. "Don't think you're going to make it out alive," she whispers surely, her mouth a thin line.

James opens his mouth but she is already turning from him. Already out of reach.

* * *

When she hears her name on Kaidan's lips it doesn't hurt like she expects it to. She turns from James, and sees Kaidan standing there in the middle of the bustling hall outside the committee hearing.

His eyes are warm, like she remembers, and reminiscent of Earth, like she always knew.

There is a familiarity that thaws the harsh clench of her heart minutely.

He is the first friendly face, besides Anderson, that she has seen in months.

She stops at the thought. At 'friendly'. She says the word so naturally, so easily. When it should be anything but. She thinks maybe she really has let loose that aching remembrance of his back to her. She doesn't understand why the pain does not grip her. Why his slow and hesitant smile should feel comforting to her.

This life is too short and too brutal to keep looking for love where there is none.

She has laid that to rest long ago.

The way he smiles at her, tender, cautious. She thinks maybe he has laid it to rest as well.

The deadened, dragging weight of the past no longer grasping for them.

Something new. More. Different.

She hopes with an intensity she hadn't thought possible that it is true.

That there can be more between her and Kaidan than just regret.

Her own smile does not reach her eyes, but it is hers. And it is honest. And it is for him.

* * *

This is how the end begins.

The thrumming, threatening silence as she looks into the sky through the glass of the window.

The halting breath in her chest.

The gleaming shaft of red that cuts through the air.

The blaring, mind-splitting bellow of a Reaper.

"Run!" she screams.

Not quick enough.

She is blasted back from the explosion.

And then it is dark.

* * *

Anderson's face above her as he drags the broken beam from atop her body is possibly the most beautiful sight she's ever seen.

* * *

Shepard wipes a hand along her mouth and spits toward the ground as she and Anderson run along the ruined buildings toward the dock. Her joints have locked from being forcefully thrown back into debris in the committee chamber. She shakes her limbs out, tries to regain her usual smooth motion. Her cheek is throbbing and her shoulder sore after jamming it back into place from its initial dislocation. But she can run. She can move. Her fingers are wrapped around her Carnifex pistol in reassurance.

She lopes across rooftops, shoots anything that isn't human, and ambles around broken bits of collapsed buildings as though it is familiar. As though the breathless sight of a Reaper only a few kilometers in the distance is common. Another one touches down along the horizon and she can feel the thundering quake even from so far away. The air is filled with smoke and screams and the unending barrage of gunfire. She finds a narrow focus in all of it.

Keep Anderson alive.

Find the Normandy.

Take out as many fuckers along the way as she can.

This she can do. She has no mind for anything else. She hardly blinks when she quickly dispatches the husks crawling up the wall near her. Down below the roof she is sprinting across are fleeing civilians. She thinks maybe she should feel more for their cries, try harder to assist them. But she knows it is pointless. She knows they are lost if she cannot just _get to the Normandy_.

Shepard does not slow her gait when the brilliant flare of an exploding frigate lights the sky to her left. She can hear Anderson's grunt as his gaze shoots to the explosion.

"Keep moving," she rasps through pants, drawing his attention back ahead of them.

He is silent but presses on.

They come to the ledge of another building's rooftop and Anderson takes the ladder down first. Shepard whips her head back as the thunderous rumble of another Reaper rattles the air around her. She sees it, all gleaming metal and unfathomable coldness. One of its colossal tendrils smashes into the husk of the building that was once the committee chamber, where she had stood only minutes ago. She glances up its smooth, devastating form and thinks for a moment, as the whirling red eye sweeps over the land, that it _sees_ her.

That it _knows_ her.

A flaring fury takes hold of her at the thought.

"Shepard!" Anderson calls from below.

She holsters her pistol and reaches around to grab the sides of the ladder. Moving her boots to the edge and loosening her grip, she slides with swift momentum down the height of the building. She hits the ground below with a heavy thud, dust billowing up around her knees, and she grabs for her pistol again, turning to see Anderson motion her forward.

She still can't see the dock. Only crumbling buildings around the nearby bay and the occasional shuttle car soaring through the air. Another ship gets blasted out of the sky. The ground shakes with the force of a collapsing building a few kilometers behind them. She and Anderson jog to the edge of the steel panel they landed on, hopping down to the ground below near the edge of the water. They meander through collapsed steel walls and concrete debris along the ring of the bay, and Anderson catches sight of a downed cruiser farther up.

"Come on," he calls, waving a hand forward. "Maybe there's a radio in there."

The nearest Reaper sweeps its cutting beam along the water and into the shoreline across from their position, waves of water crashing over the fiery destruction in its wake. The beam catches the tail end of an evac shuttle and its engine blows out over the blasted buildings below it, jerking sharply in the air before plunging ground-ward. It smashes into the flaming destruction of former buildings the Reaper had just obliterated, another explosion rocking the bay with its demise.

Shepard pulls a sharp breath through her nose as she and Anderson watch the blazing demolition.

"Damn it," Anderson curses under his breath, his brows inclined sharply over his narrowed eyes. "We're getting decimated here," he growls, turning his gaze quickly to Shepard beside him.

She only offers a quick lift of her lips, in something that might have stood for a smirk if it weren't so defeated. If it weren't so blood-tinged. "I suppose 'I told you so' would sound a little tasteless right about now, huh?" She chuckles because it is all she can do.

It is all so strange.

Vancouver looks like she feels.

Anderson's frown deepens, and Shepard is surprised his face hasn't cracked with the force of it. He pulls his cap tighter over his forehead and turns from her, pistol ready again in his hand. He climbs over a blown-out wall. "Let's just get to that damn radio, Commander."

Shepard clenches her jaw at the title and follows him.

It is all so strange.

How the world has never looked so familiar.

* * *

"I'm not leaving, Shepard."

She blinks at Anderson from the open cargo ramp of the Normandy, the wind from the ship's engines whipping around them, small and sharp waves surging through the water below.

She moves instantly, stalking back down the ramp toward him. "The fuck you are," she growls.

Kaidan's hand wrapping around her elbow stops her. She swings wide eyes toward him.

There is nothing but concern in his gaze.

"There's got to be an organized front on Earth, Shepard," Anderson continues below her.

She snaps her eyes back to the admiral and the distance between them feels like a chasm.

He takes a step back on the ruined dock, one hand holding his cap down in the wild wind, his other hanging at his side, rifle in his grip. "They need me here."

" _I_ need you," she pleads before she can hold back the words. She stops, swallows tightly and pulls her shoulders back. She feels Kaidan's hand slip from her arm but doesn't look at him.

Anderson shakes his head, a smirk spreading over his lips. "You never needed anybody in your life, Shepard," he yells over the wind. It isn't said with accusation or judgment or malice.

It hurts her all the same.

His smirk widens to a smile. "Just yourself," he finishes, nodding once. Quick. Sure.

Huffing with the frustration, glancing up quickly to gauge the position of the surrounding Reapers, Shepard's spine straightens as she hollers above the roaring gale, "I can't fight the Reapers alone, Anderson. And neither can you."

"And we won't," he shouts confidently, "because you're going to bring the whole goddamn galaxy to their doorstep." He says it as though it were obvious. As though he has always known. Always believed.

The way he looks at her.

There are so many things she's never had the chance to say.

Anderson looks back at an incoming shuttle crossing the bay and then catches sight of a Reaper changing course for them. He whips back to face Shepard. "Now go!" he yells, waving her off.

She grinds her teeth, steps further down the ramp once more and she hears James' warning shout behind her when the edge is close. "Anderson," she manages through clenched teeth.

The admiral reaches into his pocket and weighs something in his hand, his gaze fleeting and nostalgic on the object a moment. And then he is tossing it up to her.

She catches it in her gloved palm and unfurls her fingers to look at it. Her dog tags. She meets his gaze quietly, longingly.

His smile is swift and brilliant. "Come back to us, Commander." And then he is gone, running back along the length of the dock toward the hovering shuttle that just landed.

Shepard opens her mouth as though to call out to him, leaning forward before Kaidan catches her arm once more. She turns in his grasp and finds his gaze over the horizon. She follows it and sees the advancing Reaper, its threatening red eye honing in on them.

She activates the comm. link in her ear instantly, back-treading into the Normandy's hold without hesitation, Kaidan following. "Joker, get us out of here ASAP."

"On it, ma'am," is her answer.

She can feel the steady vibrations of the ship as the engines kick in and they start to move off. She has made it up the ramp and James slams a hand against the panel along the wall to close the hatch. She can see the small, disappearing form of Anderson for only a moment before the closing ramp blocks her sight.

"I promise," she breathes quietly in the silent hull.

* * *

"Drop me back down there, Commander!" James demands harshly after Shepard orders Joker to the Alliance station on Mars. "I ain't fucking going to Mars when there are Reapers on Earth _right now_." He stalks after her in the cargo hold.

She ignores him and makes her way to the crate where she knows her armor is stored.

Kaidan jogs up from the engineering ramp and watches the two stride purposefully across the room. "What's going on?" he asks cautiously.

James growls at Shepard's silence. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

She spins around so quickly that he nearly collides with her. He stumbles back as she advances, her finger brought up in the air threateningly.

"Here's the thing, soldier," she growls lowly, eyes narrowed to thin slits. "You better get comfortable with my command because like it or not, this is _my_ fucking ship. And you're on it. So fall in line or shut the hell up."

James puffs out his chest and stares down at her, anger coloring his face. "We can't just –"

"Just what, Lieutenant?" she interrupts sharply, her hand dropping back to her side, just begging him to say more.

His nostrils flare with his exasperation and he throws his hands into the air. "Can't just _leave_ him."

She glares at him a moment before she answers. "I didn't _just leave him_."

"Sure as hell looked that way to me."

Shepard takes another step closer, her face pushing up into his so that she can see the honeyed orbs of his irises shifting back and forth between hers.

"Guys," Kaidan interrupts, coming up beside them, hands in the air like a surrender. "This isn't the time."

Shepard flicks her gaze to him beside her and then back to James.

The lieutenant is still livid before her.

She takes a slow, heavy breath and pulls her shoulders back. "Look," she seethes, "Hackett needs us on Mars. And _I_ need a crew that can get me there." She crosses her arms and leans back on one leg, gaze appraising him. "Come on, Vega. All those months I was locked up? You always telling me how much you wanted to serve on the Normandy? Don't tell me you lost your nerve now.'

He narrows his eyes at her and his hands ball into fists at his side. "No, ma'am. You know that isn't it," he breathes lowly, warningly.

She smirks darkly in response. "I know you'd be dead within minutes if I dropped you back on Earth. _That's_ what I know."

He opens his mouth to respond but doesn't get to finish.

"Look, Lieutenant," Kaidan butts in, both of them turning to regard the Major. "We've already cleared the atmosphere. Going back now would only waste time. Precious time that is costing us against the Reapers. If Hackett thinks this is important than we can't afford to waste any more."

Shepard is too frustrated with James to fully appreciate Kaidan's words, but she nods all the same, looking back to the fuming soldier. "I have more important things to worry about than your sacrificial bullshit, Lieutenant. The mission will _always_ matter more."

Something flickers in James' eyes at the words and his shoulders sag minutely. Not enough for Shepard to think he is any less angry, but enough to tell her that he recognizes the sentiment behind her words. Enough that her gaze softens upon his face.

James looks between the two of them, and then unclenches his fists at his side, swallowing thickly as he sighs. "Understood, Commander."

She gives him one last stern look before she turns from him and moves toward the crate holding her armor set.

James stands in the same place for many moments, watching the efficiency and confidence of her movements. He feels the pressure of a hand lighting along his shoulder and turns to find Kaidan watching the commander as well.

"Welcome to the Normandy," the Major sighs, sliding his hand from James' shoulder and walking away.

James runs a hand down his face and shakes his head, the breath leaving him in one long exhale.

* * *

They barely make it into the Mars facility before Shepard is biting her tongue in dangerous wrath.

" _What_ , Major?" she hisses, eyes glancing Kaidan's way as they step up to the elevator at the entrance, bodies of Cerberus soldiers littering the small canyon behind them. "Go on. I know the words are just burning up inside. Fucking _say it_." She lowers her pistol and slams a hand along the control, the doors sliding closed behind the trio and the hiss of the pressurizing chamber sounding around them.

Kaidan huffs, dropping the sight on his own weapon as he eyes her. "It's just rather coincidental, don't you think?" he prods.

"No," she growls. "I don't."

"And you have no idea why Cerberus would be here?"

"If you can't take my word for it then I have nothing else to tell you."

"Damn it, Shepard," he curses, chest rising as he steps closer. "I'm just trying to get some answers."

The heavy clicking and rumble of the pressurizing chamber ceases as she takes a step toward him as well, chin jutting out with defiance. "Then you're asking the wrong questions, Major." It is a low warning.

James eyes the two warily from the corner.

A mechanical voice floats through the room and announces the safety of the atmosphere. Shepard turns her gaze to the controls and taps several keys to get the elevator moving. "Cerberus brought me back," she begins, sighing. "They gave me a ship, I used their resources, I said 'fuck you' to The Illusive Man and I left my life in the hands of the Alliance." Her jaw grinds at the words, at the heavy, unbearable remembrance of the last six months under the suspicious eyes of the Alliance. She had finally won back some semblance of freedom when that stupid, righteous part of her heart told her it was the right thing to do. That her actions meant nothing if she couldn't answer for them. Shepard turns back to watch Kaidan as the elevator shifts and then slowly ascends. "And if you had any idea just how fucking hard that last part was you wouldn't dare be asking me these questions."

James locks his rifle into his holster and moves to unlock his helmet. "She had no contact with Cerberus, Major." He removes his helmet and holds it at his side. "I was head of her security detail. No way she was working with them."

Shepard glances at him out of the corner of her eye, removing her own helmet. She is grateful for his interjection, but she doesn't think he needs another reason to preen, so she simply nods and keeps her frown along her lips.

Kaidan sighs and looks at her, his own helmet latched to his hip and gaze now unhindered. "I'm sorry, Shepard, I just –"

"Don't say you're sorry unless you fucking mean it," she interrupts, her words clipped.

Kaidan stares at her, his brows furrowing. "I do," he starts, hesitantly at first. And then he is clearing his throat, looking to the ground. And then the wall. And then back at her. "I do, Shepard."

She cocks her head to the side and watches him, the words stilled along her tongue. There's more, she knows. More that he isn't saying. The anger is familiar when she opens her mouth to retort, but tempered somewhat by her concern. Dripping with anxious disquiet. "Then why, Kaidan?"

The way she says his name.

Kaidan has to swallow back that stinging bile of regret. "You don't understand, Shepard. It wasn't…I just couldn't…"

She steps closer, ignoring James' presence, her face peering up into his. She _needs_ to know. She needs to understand. "How could you even think it of me?" The words are soft and quaking, but they are still sharp. They still sling that smarting sense of betrayal back at him.

Kaidan blinks, eyes searching hers, his throat tight with trepidation. God, just the smell of her. So close.

He had forgotten this feeling.

It was terrifying.

In only the most exhilarating way.

Kaidan sighs heavily and shakes his head. "Because if it was true…if –", he stops, words catching, breath halting. "If you really were back. And real. And _you_. Then…then everything I said on Horizon, every way that I doubted you, every time I pushed away…" His gaze fell to the floor, his fingers curling into fists at his side. "Then I really have lost you. Then I really have just…fucked up beyond all repair." His voice breaks and it isn't until he feels Shepard's hand beneath his chin, urging his gaze up, that he releases that heavy breath lodged in his chest.

She keeps her steady gaze on his, removes her hand from beneath his chin. Her eyes are hard and demanding on his, unflinching. "Maybe you have, Kaidan," she says quietly, slowly. "Maybe there is no going back." She knows this. Believes it. But she didn't realize it would be so hard to _say it_.

He closes his eyes in silent anguish, bringing a hand to his forehead. "I didn't think it would hurt this much." The words rush out on a shaky exhale and he is shaking his head. "I didn't think I'd be this scared that it was true. God, if you only knew how much I regret it."

The elevator jostles and then stills, the doors sliding open before them. James is instant in his reaction, moving to the entrance and checking corners in the open room.

Shepard and Kaidan have each drawn their weapons, catching James' indication of a clear room and stepping out into the entrance hall of the facility.

Shepard must push down all the surfacing emotions clamoring up her throat. Steady the uneven cadence of her heart. She clears her throat and advances, Kaidan just behind her.

She takes a chance. "Kaidan," she whispers, and he is beside her the next moment, eyes unwilling to meet hers, gaze instead roaming over the equipment in the room.

"Commander." It is a ghost of his voice she hears.

Shepard glances to him. "I know."

He stills, flicking his gaze hesitantly toward her, his voice stalled in his throat.

She manages a small smile that is hesitant at best and unfamiliar at worst. "How much you regret it. I know."

Kaidan's eyes widen, his mouth opening as though to speak.

But then the muffled sharpness of gunshots echoes through the room and their attention is drawn to the clambering sounds coming from an air duct up above.

* * *

Shepard glances down at the bodies littering the depressurized mess hall of the station, their faces frozen in silent horror, fingers curled like claws against their throats, eyes bulging and white.

Her throat tightens at the sight, her own sharp remembrance of suffocation still stark and vibrant. She tears her gaze away.

"I want that damn airlock closed," she rasps, eyes catching Liara's.

The asari's face is pinched tightly with pain, her lip pulled firmly beneath her teeth as her gaze then rakes over her former colleagues. She nods silently in response.

Shepard's face softens at the sight.

* * *

It happens as the tram carries them ever closer to the archive.

"Shepard," Liara says, voice hesitant.

She looks up at the asari. She thinks maybe Liara's face is too kind for this world.

Liara clears her throat. "I'm sorry I wasn't quick enough."

Shepard furrows her brows in confusion.

The asari continues, gaze shifting over the wide expanse between them and the archive. "In finding the data on the device." She sighs. "I'm sorry I wasn't quick enough for Earth."

"Earth is still in this, Liara," Kaidan urges, pushing from his lean along the tram wall. "Don't count us out yet."

Shepard watches him silently and hopes beyond all else that he is right.

Liara rubs at her forehead, shaking her head back and forth. "Goddess, there was just…no warning." She looks up and catches Shepard's gaze. "How do you prepare for such a thing? How do you even survive?"

It happens when the question hangs, deadly and inevitable, in the air.

Shepard thinks of Thane. Of Garrus. Of Tali and Wrex and, God, even Jacob. She thinks of all of them. Out there. Somewhere she cannot reach. Somewhere probably just as devastated as Earth.

Maybe even dead already.

Her chest tightens, her fingers reflexively gripping her sniper rifle with a fierce intensity. She is flushed with an overwhelming chill, a heavy, sinking rock in her gut that threatens to drag her under. Where she cannot breathe. Where she cannot do anything but flail wildly in the dark. Her eyes are wet without her bidding, smacking of salt and terror that roots her where she stands.

_You never needed anybody in your life, Shepard._

She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head, only slightly, barely enough for Liara to catch.

No.

No, he's wrong.

God, how wrong he was.

She hears Kaidan's voice, warm and adamant. "We do it together," he answers, without hesitation.

Shepard opens her eyes and finds him watching her.

No. Anderson was wrong.

She needed all of them.

* * *

She thinks maybe she's always known this was how things would end up between her and the Illusive Man.

Some part of her watches the projection of The Illusive Man in the hall of the archive and wonders if she'd have recognized him years ago. If she'd have understood. If she'd have seen a comrade. A brother.

Wonders if his words and his urgency and his earnestness might have moved her.

But a larger part is just angry.

A larger part has already said her goodbyes, in the hollow darkness of the Collector Base.

She does not recognize him when he speaks her name.

* * *

There is a moment. A split-right-down-the-middle second. When Shepard finds the light, reassuring breath of relief fill her lungs.

And then the charred, terrifyingly human-like body of Dr. Eva Coré is rushing from the explosion on the deck.

And straight for Kaidan.

The synthetic's hand wraps around his face before he can fire his weapon, and Shepard's scream is dragging from her throat when Coré first pulls back and smashes his head into the side of the shuttle.

It happens in a matter of seconds. In the time of a breath.

The sickening crunch of bones is louder than Shepard ever thought possible when Coré slams Kaidan once more into the shuttle before she can get a round off.

A bullet to the synthetic's shoulder.

It jerks back sharply, and manages one last gut-wrenching slam of Kaidan's flailing body into the metal hull of the shuttle before Shepard riddles it with bullets.

The robotic body collapses to the ground under her rage and Kaidan falls from its grasp.

Shepard is panting sharply and the sound is loud in the confines of her helmet. Vaguely, as though from a distant memory, she hears James' frantic voice as he clamors from the burning wreckage of their downed shuttle. Shepard is dimly aware of Liara's painfully tight grip on her arm, the asari's gasp short and sharp. Flames jump from the fiery aftermath of the shuttle collision, hungrily devouring the wreckage, bright and spitting at them.

Shepard is still.

Breathless.

Joker's voice comes in over the static of the storm, frantic and urgent.

Shepard is only aware of one thing. Only one thing.

Kaidan's body, still and slumped against the shuttle door.

She calls his name, first a whisper, and then surer. Louder. Again. This time desperate.

No.

She begins to tremble.

She needed _all_ of them.


	15. Where There Was None Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She suddenly understands her death and her life again and every moment in between where it didn't end but should have." - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would really like to thank GiselleSwain, cosmicpixie, and Mistress of Solitude (utterlyheartbroken) for being such awesome readers and reviewers. You've really helped revitalize this story for me when I was in the midst of a creative drought. So this is for you. :)

Sheparding Men

Chapter Fifteen: Where There Was None Before

" _She suddenly understands her death and her life again and every moment in between where it didn't end but_ should have _."_ \- A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

Shepard remembers, very clearly, the sound of every rib she's cracked. She remembers the sharp scent of burning flesh from every singe of every gunshot she's ever taken. She remembers, constantly (because how could she forget?), the taste of blood on her tongue. And she remembers the throbbing ache of every bruise to taint her skin.

Shepard knows her scars. She lives her scars. She _is_ her scars.

And she remembers every death on her hands. She mourns them each. Separately. Each in their own way. Always singular and sacred and searing.

But she isn't prepared to remember Kaidan. Not like this. Not this bruised and bloody and broken.

She isn't prepared for this scar. Not yet.

When Liara places a gentle hand on her shoulder Shepard slowly pulls from her touch. Her eyes are hard on the recently disconnected comm. panel. Hackett's image has already faded from the terminal. Her fists are quaking at her sides.

"Shepard." Liara's voice is a hesitant caress.

Kaidan lays unconscious on the other side of the ship. Maybe dying. Maybe dead already.

"Just…" Shepard's voice cracks. She sniffs loudly, eyes dry, shoulders pulled taut. "Just make sure he lasts until the Citadel."

She does not enter the medbay again until the emergency medical staff are carrying his gurney out the airlock and into the cold space of the Citadel docking port. She watches him go and tries to steady herself.

She knows he may only be the first.

* * *

Nothing is said in the meeting with the Council that she hasn't already expected. Reluctant recognition of all her past warnings. Diplomatic and evasive answers to her demands for support. And of course, the rank self-interest she has grown to recognize like her own face in the mirror.

She knows it's bad when she actually welcomes Udina's brusque and self-important remarks. At least he still bats for Earth.

When the turian councilor explains his proposition, Shepard rubs a hand down her face and bites her tongue.

It is only the beginning, she knows. She has been ready for this, for the favors and the trades, for the aggravating political maneuvers that would inevitably shape the war. For the role she expected to be thrust upon her. But some part of her still yearned for the simplicity of frontline battle, for the unquestionable ease that comes with killing. It has been her talent for so long. She wonders why the galaxy puts her to work as a negotiator.

But Shepard has learned how to make the hard decisions, how to command from a distance, how to send good people to their deaths.

Because she knows it's only a matter of time before she joins them.

She takes the councilor's offer and readies for a war that has been calling to her her whole life.

* * *

Shepard lets go of Kaidan in the silent emptiness of his hospital room. She brushes her fingers tenderly along his own and watches the steady lull of his chest as he breathes in his sleep. She tells herself that this might be it. The end. The final goodbye. She tells herself that she has always known it was a possibility.

Because she's a soldier. Because she put this uniform on knowing – _knowing_ – that sometimes the end comes without warning and goodbyes are a rare luxury. Because she understands her own insignificance in the face of the galaxy.

Because she will not be able to do what she must if she does not let him go.

She leaves silently, with dry eyes and a thin frown. She leaves with the knowledge that all those months of telling herself she could save them might have been pointless. She wonders if any of them will get out of this alive.

It was always for them, for her crew, her _family_. But now, it will have to be about more. It will have to be about a galaxy of innocents. Because she knows it's selfish to fight only for her own.

And she knows it's likely a battle she will not win.

It's the strangers on the street she can still save.

The rest of them are already lost. She glances to Kaidan one last time before the door slides closed behind her and the finality of the thought settles tight and sure in her gut.

* * *

James is waiting at the airlock for the Normandy when Shepard makes her way back. He pushes from his lean along the wall when she approaches.

"Commander," he greets, a light smirk playing at his lips.

Shepard narrows her eyes and leans her weight back on one leg to look at him. "Surprised to still find you here, Lieutenant."

James clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. "Thought you could use a hand with this Primarch mission."

Shepard feels the tension in her back lessening minutely. She crosses her arms in her lean. "You're not officially assigned to the Normandy, Vega," she says slowly, gauging him.

"No ma'am," he offers lightly, his smirk widening.

She watches him a moment longer. "You could've caught transport on any number of Alliance vessels leaving port for Earth. So why?"

His smirk falters. His eyes glance along the docking bay corridor, catching sight of all the people flooding through the cramped space. And then he is looking past the glass window to the Normandy. He clears his throat. "Can't deny I'm still itching for some payback groundside, ma'am." He rocks back on his heels a moment, contemplative. His eyes find hers once more. "But shit, Commander, I…I get it, you know? I get how important it is for you to play negotiator and round up all the races. I get that we won't stand a chance unless we stand together. But I'm just a soldier." He sighs and rakes a hand through his short hair. "And that's all I can offer you, I know. It might not mean much to you, Commander, but I'm still offering. You'll have my gun at your back if you just ask. I'll be in it. All the way. Fighting for you. Because I think you might be the only chance we've got and I'm not going to let that out of my sight for anything."

Shepard finds herself softening, finds herself wondering how many soldiers out there feel the same. She wonders if she will ever be able to justify their faith in her. She is nearly drowning herself.

James tears his gaze from her once more, and swallows thickly. He watches the Normandy outside the glass pane and folds his hands behind his back, shoulders taut. "I just…" he stops, clenches his jaw and breathes deep before he continues. "If you tell me this is where I'm needed, Commander, then I'm with you."

Taking a slow breath in, Shepard flexes her fingers along her crossed arms and glances to the floor a moment, brows furrowed in thought.

James waits expectantly.

Shepard blows a weary breath through her lips and looks back up to lock gazes with the lieutenant. "I might not be headed back to Earth for a while." She says it firmly, but even James can hear the regret laced along her words.

He nods. "I understand that, ma'am."

Shepard uncrosses her arms and shakes her head, one hand running through her dark curls. "I'm not looking for a reckless stuntman or an awestruck rookie or an inappropriate flirt," she says curtly, eyes hard on him.

He opens his mouth to speak but catches himself. He grips his hands tighter behind his back and keeps his gaze steady on hers.

Shepard cocks her head as she looks at him. She doesn't understand his eagerness to join her crew. Any sane person would keep a safe distance. The Normandy has carried nothing but grief and loss for those aboard her.

But when she looks at James, Shepard cannot describe the barely-there wave of assurance that washes over her. The warm flush of recognition when she looks into his eyes. She finds a determination there that she thinks maybe, she just might need.

She knows there will be many days ahead where it could be all that keeps her going.

They have each looked at her with those eyes. Her crew. Her family. They have each offered their constant support and their unwavering presence. They have each offered _themselves_. Fully and without demand.

She thinks it might be the bravest thing she's seen James do. To put away his blazing need for Earth and stand behind her.

She will not demean that offer with anything less than acceptance.

Sighing heavily, Shepard lifts her chin and keeps his gaze. "But perhaps another _soldier_ is exactly what I need."

His whole face brightens, but he keeps his staunch hold of his hands behind his back, his posture ready. "I won't let you down, Shepard."

"I'll hold you to that."

He grins, wide and appreciative. "Permission to come aboard?"

She swallows tightly and gives him one last look. "Permission granted." And then she is stalking up the corridor and into the waiting Normandy.

Somehow, it isn't the long, hard walk she imagined.

* * *

Traynor is an odd mix of insecurity and eagerness to Shepard. But she covers both well. There is the professional address and the clear competence that buries the insecurity, though Shepard can still detect it. And the self-deprecating humor she witnesses the comm. specialist trade with EDI tempers Traynor's naïve-like eagerness somewhat.

Even still, her face says everything Shepard needs to know.

She wonders if Traynor will live to see the end. She surprises herself by discovering how much she wishes for it.

* * *

Liara is at her cabin door when she wakes sweating and terrified. She opens the door groggily, her brows knitted together. Liara blinks at her, her mouth dipping into a frown. There is a long silence between them.

The asari's hands move from their hold behind her back and there is a datapad in her grip. "I was going to ask you to go over some projections with me," she starts, hesitantly.

Shepard grips the threshold between them and has a flash of remembrance. Her dream. All darkened shadows and cloying voices. But the blood had been clear. And the eyes. They had burned their hatred and resentment all the way to her bones. She had heard their wailing even as she woke.

Liara's eyes soften and she takes a step closer, her free hand moving to Shepard's elbow, her fingers tender in their hold. "But I can come back," she offers.

Shepard brushes her thick mane of dark curls past her cheek and sighs. "No," she breathes. "No, let's…go over them."

"Shepard." Liara's thumb brushes against the skin of her arm.

Shepard has a brief moment of surrender. But then she remembers Kaidan on a hospital bed, and the staggering numbers Udina had shown her, the stark disconnect she had felt when she scanned the casualty reports. She remembers all those who can do nothing.

She remembers that she can do _something_. And she knows she isn't finished.

"It's not going to get better, Liara," she sighs, her voice hardening.

Liara swallows back her words.

"It's only going to get worse."

"I know," Liara interrupts, her eyes intent, her chest rising minutely with the fervency of her words. She clamps her mouth shut then, her fingers digging into Shepard's elbow. "I know," she repeats, this time a whisper, this time defeated. "But you can't…it isn't…"

Shepard reaches for the datapad and gently pulls it from Liara's grasp as the asari eyes her wordlessly. Liara's hold of Shepard's arm releases when the commander takes a purposeful step back from her, leaning slightly along the threshold. Shepard moves her gaze to the datapad, her fingers tapping keys and opening files. "It's only going to get worse," she says once more. Her voice is uncompromising, unflinching. "We go on."

Liara nods, lip caught tight between her teeth.

* * *

The Normandy rips through dark space and cold light on its way to Menae. She lays in her bed in the empty confines of her captain's cabin and stares at the skylight. Thin strips of unreachable light wisp by as she grips the sheets beneath her.

She reminds herself that Garrus is too stubborn to die from a wave of Reapers. That there's no way he'd go out in an orbital bombardment. Garrus is meant to die in the heat of a firefight. Close enough to see the whites of his enemy's eyes.

He is no victim of a Reaper.

She tells herself this, even as she chokes back a sob.

* * *

The marauders are eerily familiar. Not because of their resemblance to the turians. Not because of their similar movement or clicking or perseverance. But because of the way they look when they are dead and sprawled along the grey rock of Menae.

Several turian soldiers call to Shepard from behind the barricade as the last flood of reaperized forces is quelled. She simply stares down at the marauder body before her, at the thin strips of sinew and muscle coiled around thrumming Reaper technology. The indecipherable meld of machine and flesh. The faint whirling of unknown mechanisms still ticking to life beneath the dead flesh of the corpse.

She wonders what her own insides look like.

She crouches down, moving her rifle to slide over her shoulder and into its case.

"Commander," James urges just beside her, his gaze raking over the grey expanse of Palaven's moon, his fingers flexing against his rifle. "We need to keep moving."

Shepard ignores him. She cannot take her eyes from the bloodied marauder before her. Her hand moves without her realizing. Her gloved fingers press against the smooth contours of the corpse's chest. There is a faint yielding, the taut stretch of tendon wrapped over its carapace. When she pulls her fingers back they are coated in a slick, bluish oil.

She tries to imagine the mesh of wire and tissue branching through her own body. Tries to map the length of cybernetic implants that connect along her spine.

When she stares along the marauder's jaw and past its hard-planed cheek, she wonders if she seems an abomination to _them_.

But then she remembers how she bleeds red and how her bones still crack beneath the force of a Brute's charge. She remembers how her skin breaks, raw and tender, even under the protective casing of her armor.

When James calls to her again she pushes from her crouch and grabs for her sniper rifle. The wetness of reaperized blood against her fingers smears along the barrel of her Widow.

She tries to forget the harsh, red lines faintly ebbing along her cheek.

She wonders if she will ever forget dying.

* * *

"I think we can wrangle a Primarch or two, Shepard," Garrus chuckles, stepping up the plank of the Menae bunker.

She cannot help the brilliant grin that breaks across her features as she moves to him. One hand reaches for his shoulder, needing to feel his solidity, needing to _know_. Her other hand moves to cup his cheek, her eyes searching his. "Garrus," she breathes, her heart aching with pain she hadn't thought possible.

She had almost resigned herself to his death. It would have been easier than the not knowing.

Garrus chuckles, his mandibles flexing uncomfortably against her hand as he wraps a talon gently around her wrist and pulls her touch from his face. "One and only."

"I wasn't sure if…" Shepard clears her throat and lets her hand fall from his cheek, suddenly aware of their proximity. "I didn't know…"

"I'm here," he assures softly, so softly it is only heard between the two of them. His talons fold around her hand to hold it between them, his touch sure and constant. Everything she needs in this moment.

Everything she is not herself.

Shepard closes her eyes momentarily as she lets the breath of relief wash through her. Her fingers curl around Garrus', gripping tightly, unable to do anything but hold him to her.

She thinks she may never let go.

"It'd take more than a few Reapers to keep me from you," he finishes, something passing for a smirk gracing his mouth.

The words make her chest clench. She finds the strength to release him.

"Friend of yours?" James asks, suddenly beside her.

"The best," she answers in a reverent whisper, her eyes never leaving the turian. Her own smile settles warm and welcomed along her face.

Garrus clears his throat and extends an arm toward James, clasping hands with him. "Garrus Vakarian. Normandy's token turian and the best damn shot this side of the galaxy."

The scoff of laughter that leaves Shepard breaks her daze. "Debatable," she counters.

Garrus raises a brow plate, shaking hands with James. "So some would say," he answers playfully.

James nods, releasing his grip of Garrus. "Looks like we could use a few of those about now. Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy."

Garrus nods in welcome, and then shifts his gaze to Liara. Her name passes his lips with a warm smile.

The asari chokes back the faintest sob and steps into him, wrapping her arms around him. "It does my heart good to know you're alive, Garrus."

"And you," he breathes against her temple, before releasing her. They each step back and share a moment of quiet relief.

"Well," Shepard interrupts, clapping her hands together, "Just like old times?" She quirks a brow and feels the first inkling of confidence since she was blown across the committee chamber floor back in Vancouver.

Garrus reaches back and grips his sniper rifle, cocking it back to rest against his shoulder. "I think you'll find a few upgrades since last we met, Shepard."

"Yes," Liara agrees, smirk widening across her lips. "I've been saving a few specialties for the Reapers."

James readies his rifle and leans back on one hip. "I think it's time we showed them we give just as good as we get."

And they do.

* * *

There is a moment of quiet desperation as Shepard watches Victus' back. Her pleading words echo around them in the following silence. He is looking up at the burning orb of Palaven and Shepard suddenly understands it all. She suddenly understands her death and her life again and every moment in between where it didn't end but _should have_.

She looks up at Palaven looming before them, and the bright fires that flash like the burning Normandy wreckage those many years ago.

The flare of destruction. The haunting silence in its wake.

The way she couldn't look away.

Shepard knows it won't be fire that takes her this time.

"Let me say goodbye to my men," Victus says lowly over his shoulder, walking from her.

The rush of power she feels at the words reminds her she isn't finished.

* * *

When Shepard is staring into the new face of EDI, she finds the urge to reach for her pistol rather alarming. The previously faceless voice of the AI is suddenly very present, very near. Very tangible.

She has never had a great track record with bodied technology. Every instinct she has tells her not to trust this new form. But then EDI moves.

It is barely there at first. Only the slight cock of her head, a soft movement that reminds Shepard of Legion. The short fluttering of its head panels. The tilt of its optic light. That pensive, patient stare that Shepard knows it must not be aware of but steadies her still.

She remembers the seared N7 patch along its arm when it had lain, dead and burnt out, along a Collector corridor.

She remembers aching for it.

Too much, she thinks. Too much for something cold and dead and _nothing_.

But she knows all too well that need to be more. To do more. To not end like this.

Alone.

Shepard clears her throat, chin lifting, eyes hard. "Never – I repeat – _never_ do something like this again without informing me first, is that clear, EDI?"

EDI takes a moment to pause, hands clasping behind her back.

Shepard wonders if that need for her pistol isn't unfounded.

But then there is this: "Of course, Shepard. You are my commander."

She remembers the eyes.

Ready to follow her anywhere.

She knows it won't be to glory.

* * *

"You ready for this summit?" Garrus asks, standing in her cabin threshold, leaning against the frame.

Shepard straightens the shoulders on her dress blues and looks back into the mirror after glancing at him. She blows an exasperated sigh from her lips and stands watching her reflection. It's so clean. So clear-cut. Not like how she knows. Not like the unending smears of blood and oil and dirt on the plates of her armor.

Her hair is slicked back in a low bun, her thick curls pulled tight to her head. The olive of her skin is darker against the deep blue of her uniform. Her face is make-up free, as it usually is, her greenish-brown eyes slowly perusing her form in the mirror for any blemishes she can see. Her hands are steady fists at her side. "'Ready' is irrelevant at this point, Vakarian," she sighs, sending a slight smirk his way.

Garrus pushes from his lean and steps into her cabin, the door sliding closed beside him. "You think Wrex will actually agree to getting a krogan force on Palaven?" There is doubt coloring his voice.

"I think he's going to give us some pretty impossible terms but yeah. Wrex knows the stakes." She lifts her gaze to his. "He's been with us since the beginning after all."

Garrus crosses his arms and lets out a soft click of agreement. "The beginning," he says wistfully.

Shepard stays silent. She turns to him.

"We're in for one hell of a war if he doesn't agree, Shepard." Garrus' eyes shift to the corner of her cabin, his talons clenching over his arms, his mandibles tight along his jaw.

She feels the need to reassure him. Taking a step closer, she grasps one of his elbows and curls her fingers around his arm. "I'll get him, Garrus. I promise."

A sound festers in Garrus' throat that she's never heard before. His mandibles flex once, short and quick, his eyes shifting to hers for the breath of an instant. His arms stay crossed tightly across his chest. "My…" He clears his throat, stepping closer to her, so that she peers up into his face. "My father and sister are still down there somewhere. Fighting, I'm sure." His voice drops, gaze shifting back over the room, his jaw clenching tightly for a moment as one of his hands pulls from their cross and covers hers over his arm. "Somewhere," he repeats, lost and hollow.

Shepard's brows furrow together, her lip caught between her teeth. Her face hardens. "Hey," she urges, her hand tightening over his elbow. His eyes find hers. "I _promise_ , you hear?"

He nods. But it is too quick and short to be anything but reflex.

She sighs, raising her other hand to lay against his chest. The tight flare of his mandible tells her he is listening. "Do you believe me?" It is a question, but it is said like a challenge. Her eyes demand it of him.

He does nothing at first, simply watches her.

She swallows thickly, her chest rising with her breaths. "Do you believe me?" she asks once more.

He nods again, slowly, eyes locked to hers. His answering hum is felt by her hand against his chest and she suddenly pulls it from him, surprised. But his own talons wrap quickly around her retreating hand and lay it back against his chest. His voice is low and steady between them. "You've kept every promise you've ever made, Shepard. I can't doubt you now."

Something jerks in her gut at the reassurance of his words. The steadfast constancy of his presence. The way she's always known he was there.

The way he's there now. Just beneath her touch.

"Good," she says loudly, clearing her throat and pulling from him. He lets her.

She turns back to the mirror for a final look and pulls her shoulders taut. "I don't intend to start breaking promises now."

Garrus stands watching her silently.

* * *

"Didn't get to greet you properly back there, Shepard." Wrex follows his hearty near-bellow with a clap of his hand along Shepard's back. She jolts beneath the force of it, but it doesn't curb the frown on her face. They stand along the raised floor of the war room, crewmen working silently around them.

"Wrex," she answers, patting him along his massive ribs and then backing out of reach.

"What's the matter?" he begins, rolling his neck. "Didn't expect to see me alive?"

"No, it's not – " Shepard catches herself, shaking her head and then reaching an arm out to clasp hands with him. "Sorry, Wrex. It _is_ good to see you." She lets the hesitant smile pull at her lips. "I should have said so from the start."

"Ah," he waves off, hand falling back from their clasp. He shrugs. "You got a lot on your plate. Besides," he pauses, a wicked grin breaking over the planes of his face. "You've got us now." He echoes the words with a fist to a palm, chuckling menacingly. "So stop worrying. The krogan'll save the day."

"You've put me in an awful position, Wrex." Shepard crosses her arms and straightens her back, trying to escape the smallness she feels when beside him.

He narrows his eyes at her. "What do you mean?" he questions cautiously, almost threateningly.

Shepard sighs and looks out over the war room, a hand rubbing over her chin. "Curing the genophage is a tall order. One I don't know we can pull off."

Wrex grumbles beside her. "My sources say it's closer than we think."

"Maybe," she muses, eyes still not reaching his. "And if we can't?"

"You mean if you _won't_."

Shepard raises a brow at him but doesn't clarify, keeping her arms crossed tight over her thudding heart.

Wrex heaves a sigh, rolling his head to crack a bone in his neck. "Then the turians can kiss Palaven goodbye."

"Wrex," she warns, eyes narrowing.

"Now you listen here, Shepard," he interrupts, finger raised in the air at her. He takes a dangerous step toward her.

She resists the urge to step back but swallows tightly.

A snarl curls along his lips and his red eyes shift back and forth between hers. "I've given my terms. The rest is up to you. Think you can win this war without the krogan?"

"Can I win it without the salarians?" she counters, head tilted just so as to seem nonchalant when she is anything but.

Wrex barks a laugh. "Sure you can. A krogan pup could wipe the floor with those puny, scheming lizards. They deserve whatever they get."

"You and I both know war is hardly about what one 'deserves'," she says pointedly.

Wrex is silent a moment, gauging her. He leans down to level gazes with her, so close his hot breath is putrid against her cheeks. She doesn't recoil. Narrowing his eyes momentarily, his lip curls with his answer. "I'm sure you'll give your little 'predicament' ample thought. And I'm sure you'll make the right choice, Shepard." He leans back, snorting in derision, even as his grin slowly peels across his face. "For all of us."

"Yes," she answers curtly, mouth snapping shut before she says more.

For all of us, she thinks.

* * *

The Normandy stops at the Citadel for supplies and crew exchanges after the summit. Shepard finds herself standing outside Kaidan's hospital door. She knows he's awake. He had enough mind to message her when he woke. Yet there are no words.

Not the right ones anyway.

But she has always valued honesty above politeness and if it hurts him – if it hurts _her_ – she will not be afraid to say what she needs. She steps toward the door.

It slides open and Kaidan turns to her in his bed, face darkened by horrific bruises. He finds the strength to smile nonetheless.

She finds she can as well, as she makes her way to the seat beside his cot. "Kaidan," she breathes, hand moving to clasp his as she settles beside him. His fingers are warm and loose in their grip, and his eyes never leave her face. He breathes her name in response. Reverently. Tenderly.

She swallows tightly and looks out the window a moment, hands falling from his, and she lets the silence spread out between them. Sighing, she looks back to him. He watches her in trepidation. "How are you?" she asks softly.

"Well enough." He winces as he tries to sit up further. "And you?"

Shepard scoffs and leans back along the chair. "I wasn't the one getting a face-full of shuttlecraft, Alenko."

"Still," he urges, eyes pleading. "How are you?"

She is silent for many moments, simply watching him. Her throat feels tight suddenly. "Well enough," she whispers, echoing his own words.

He nods, eyes drifting down to her clasped hands in her lap. "I wasn't sure if…I thought maybe you wouldn't want to see me."

She doesn't answer. Because she thought it once herself.

When she doesn't speak he knows she almost didn't make it there. He clears his throat and looks back up to her, locking gazes with her. "There are some things I need to say to you. In case I never get the chance again."

"Kaidan," she begins, a weary sigh building in her core, because she can't go through it again. She won't.

"Please, Shepard, just…" His voice catches and he licks his lips. "All you have to do is listen. You don't even have to say anything. Please."

After a moment of contemplation, Shepard nods, her brows knitting together. She settles further into her seat.

Kaidan sighs, his hands reaching around his torso to grasp at each other, fingers trembling in their hold. "I said some awful things on Horizon, and after. And I know I could have said more on Alchera but…but it was coming from a place of hurt, Shepard. A place of loss." He pauses, words faltering on his tongue.

Shepard watches on.

He takes a steadying breath in. "And none of that is an excuse. I realize now that I lost you because…because of what _I_ did, not because of anything _you_ did. Because I wasn't….I wasn't brave enough to trust you. To trust that you were real, and alive, and…still maybe mine." He falters, eyes shifting to his hands when he says it. There is regret lining his words she will never understand. "I'm not asking for your heart, Shepard. I know I lost that. And there's no getting it back. No matter how much I may want it."

Shepard sucks in a small breath. She'd always known the guilt and loss between them. Always known the ruin that stretched out in a wide chasm at their feet. And she'd always known the wreckage of her own heart, the yearning for what might have been and could have been and now will never be. But she isn't prepared to know he still holds a silent harbor for her in his own heart. Because now it isn't simply her who will hurt from this break.

Shepard's hands clench tightly together in her lap.

When Kaidan realizes what he's admitted, his eyes shoot up to hers. There is recognition there. Silent and unobtrusive. But unquestionable. He clamps his mouth shut and tries to breathe.

Shepard lets out a soft breath. "Kaidan, I don't think –"

"Wait," he chokes out, because he needs to say this. He _needs_ to. "I don't mean that in any kind of expectant way. I don't…don't expect you to reciprocate or even accept my…my love." He ends on a whisper. So small and desolate it might never have been. He licks his lips, shifting under the sheet that pools around his bruised chest. "But it's there all the same. I can't help it, Shepard. I've always loved you. But I'd be content if only I knew you forgave me. If only I knew there was a way to apologize for the hurt I've caused and you could accept that apology. Because I am. Sorry that is. So sorry I don't even have words for it Shepard but –" His voice cracks and he swallows tightly, his throat closing around his words. "How could I ever apologize enough?" he barely gets out. And then his eyes are moist with tears he blinks away. He pulls a heavy breath in, eyes unflinching from hers. He keeps the steady need to move to her coiled tight in his chest. He doesn't reach out.

Shepard takes several seconds of silence to watch her own clenched hands. When she opens her mouth to speak, it is with a heavy sigh. "I don't love you, Kaidan. And I don't think I ever will." She looks up at him. "I need to be perfectly clear on this." Her brows furrow tightly together.

Kaidan's face crumbles, but he looks off to the glass window at the other side so that she can only see the quiver along his cheek and the tight clench of his jaw. He draws several deep breathes in, and nearly a minute passes before he speaks, enough time that Shepard almost leaves.

It was a pointless visit anyway, she thinks.

She always knew it would end like this.

But his voice is unexpectedly calm when he speaks. Low and even. Almost a stranger to her ears. "I know," he answers. Simple. Resigned.

Shepard sighs and leans forward so that her elbows rest along her knees. "I don't say this to hurt you Kaidan, believe me. There's been enough hurt between the two of us to fill this whole hospital and then some. I just…I have to be honest with you, or this whole thing falls apart."

"I know," he repeats, this time surer. This time with his face turning to hers. "It doesn't make it any easier to hear." His tear-lined eyes flick to the bed where his fists are curled painfully along the sheets. They shake in their hold.

"But I do forgive you," she breathes softly, so hesitantly he thinks he might have imagined it. But when he looks to her face he knows it's true.

Something breaks inside him and flutters in jagged pieces to the surface. He learns to breathe again. Slowly and painfully. But there is air now where there was none before and bit by bit a light begins to bleed through the window.

Shepard rubs a hand down her face and shakes her head. "There's so much more out there for us to be fighting and I need…I need everyone I can get at my side. Please, tell me you're still with me." She looks at him hesitantly, expecting the worst.

He blinks at her, mouth dipping into a frown. Because how could she ever think he wouldn't be with her? But then he remembers Horizon and his cautious step back, his wary pull from her, his pained retreat from her desperate kiss. And he knows she needs this just as much as he. "From now on, there's nowhere else you'll find me, Shepard. This I promise you."

Her shoulders sag with the words, the tightness bleeding out into her frame, her breath slowly leaving her in relief she was too afraid to feel until now. "Thank you, Kaidan." Her voice cracks on his name and she has to hold her tongue a moment or she will break. "Thank you," she breathes in anxious release.

Kaidan moves a hand to cover her own. He holds it a moment, and there is companionable silence between them for a few seconds. And then he is looking at their joined hands, his throat tightening. She furrows her brows in question but then he speaks. "I have to ask," he begins, gaze flicking up to hers. "Is there…someone else?"

Shepard pulls her hand from his smoothly and surely, her back straightening.

"I don't – I mean…" Kaidan stumbles, shaking his head. He leans forward, eyes fervent on hers. "I only mean…are you happy?" He says it so softly, so achingly. As though whatever answer she gives will break him.

Shepard's face softens minutely. Her mouth opens but then words fail her. She thinks of green skin. Of dark eyes. Of warm breath against her palms and tender kisses to her neck. She thinks of the certainty in Thane's arms. She thinks _alive_ and _present_ and _powerful_. She doesn't think 'happy'.

She wonders if she will ever know what 'happy' feels like again.

But what leaves her is only half a lie. "I am." The rest is lost somewhere in space where she died three years ago.

"Good," he whispers, voice catching. But he means it.

And she knows.

And she wishes she could tell him she still wakes some nights, crying and alone.

* * *

The door slides shut behind her. Shepard makes her way through the halls of the hospital. Faces pass her that are hollow and faint. Barely there. There is only one face she sees. Only one face she needs. She chokes back a sob and rubs a hand over her mouth, finds her lips trembling.

She almost breaks into a run when she hits the waiting room of the hospital but then there.

There he is.

Waiting and hopeful and hers.

Thane.

_Hers_.


	16. To Reach For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "War has no prejudice. It kills the young and the old alike, the feeble and the able, the combatant and the civilian. No one is exempt. No one escapes its touch." - A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

Sheparding Men

Chapter Sixteen: To Reach For It

" _War has no prejudice. It kills the young and the old alike, the feeble and the able, the combatant and the civilian. No one is exempt. No one escapes its touch."_ \- A war-battered Shepard learns about love from the different men in her life. Memory. Passion. Constancy. These are the gifts they gave her.

* * *

Shepard remembers the day Alliance soldiers pulled her from the wreckage of an M-080 Infantry Fighting Vehicle on Akuze. Barely conscious, her back blanketed in acid burns that tore straight through her armor. Pus already caking in the open sores. A broken femur. Dehydration. Heat stroke. Her own vomit, dried and baking in the planet's searing heat, under her chest and cheek where she had fallen and couldn't get back up. She had resigned to die in that vehicle, the scent of her comrades' blood still burning the air in her nostrils.

She remembers the steady flicker of constant flies against her cheek and how she had _wished_ for an end.

It never came.

Shepard has always known how to survive, even when she hadn't wanted to, even when every fiber of her being is pleading for that peaceful silence of sleep that never ends. Her body pushes on. Clings just a little tighter. Digs just a little deeper. Her heart and her lungs and her blood are beyond even her own understanding. Something inside her doesn't know how to die.

There are many things she can survive.

But it's the living and the breathing and the long walk on that cuts the deepest.

Looking at Thane now, his back to her as he looks through the hospital waiting room windows, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders stretched taut – just the _thought_ of him in reach – has her shaking uncontrollably. She stands at the exit of the main hall, rooted at the sight of him several feet from her.

There are many things she can survive but his touch, his voice, his breath – _him_ – he will be her dearest scar, she knows.

She moves to him.

She is close enough to see his reflection in the glass, to see the recognition in his dark eyes across the pane, when he turns to her. His body rises with his breath, a single, long intake that fills him, steadies him. He holds it at her stillness.

They stand silent and watching each other for many moments as the world moves around them.

Shepard opens her mouth but it is a croak that leaves her. She clears her throat, licking her lips. Everything is bright and sharp and stark in the room. His eyes are darker. His shoulders are smaller. His lips are impossibly drier. She swears she sees every ridge and pore of his vivid green skin and she loves them each. Something about him screams pain but it isn't his face or his posture. His body is losing the fight. He is a defiant warrior in a traitorous shell.

Shepard knows all too well the sharp disconnect between the soul's desire and the body's will.

When she thinks she might shatter if another moment of silence is stretched out before them, she finds her voice, small and breathless. "Hi." She swallows back the bile rising at the edge of her throat.

Thane releases his breath, and it rattles from him like splitting stone.

Shepard's chest constricts harshly at the sound.

"Siha," he breathes, and suddenly, anything she might have thought to say is gone from her.

She takes a hesitant step closer. "I missed you," she whispers. Because it is all she can say. All she knows in this moment.

He is still too far. There is still too much distance between them.

He smiles, his lips breaking slowly open across his face and she has never seen anything so beautiful. "And I, you." His hands slip from behind his back and rest at his sides, uncertain.

Forcing words she thinks might just be filling space, Shepard answers back, "I thought drell had perfect memory." She lets a stilted laugh fall from her lips, already dead in the air between them. "How can you miss someone who's always with you?" Her throat tightens, her eyes suddenly moist without her realizing it. She clamps her jaw shut tight so he cannot see her tremble.

Thane offers a small, knowing smile, his eyes drifting to her hand at her side. When he takes a step closer, enough that she could touch him if she only reached for him, her breath stills in her chest. He reaches for her hand, threading his fingers through her own and raising it to his mouth. He pauses with her knuckles just beneath his lips, his eyes unflinching on hers. "To touch you, siha…" He trails off, lips pursing with barely constrained emotion. He dips low to press his lips to her knuckles, his shaking breath breaking over her skin and she thinks maybe he wasn't the one dying. He keeps his mouth to her hand for several seconds, eyes fluttering closed. And then his voice breaks her in ways he will never understand. "It is a singular experience." He pulls her hand from his lips and watches her, straightening.

When she stares at him, eyes pooling with tears, her body stiff with tight control, he rubs a thumb along her knuckles and then tugs, gently. "Come," he whispers.

She does.

He moves his arms around her just as she steps into him. Her shuddering breath is buried in his shoulder, her hands curling tightly in his coat. His hands are strong and sure and she sobs at the realization that it isn't enough.

Death hurries toward them still.

"I have longed for you, siha," he breathes into her hair, and she clutches tighter, her fingers digging into his coat painfully. The quake that rocks through her shakes them both. He sighs against her, his hand coming up to brace her head against him, his other arm wrapped around her waist. He dips his head lower so that their cheeks press together. She is sure he can feel the wetness of her tears and the thought sobers her. She clears her throat, pulling a tight breath through her aching lungs and pushing from him, slowly. He releases her reluctantly.

She stands apart from him, her jaw clenched forcefully to control the sobs held tight in her throat. "I didn't know if you were dead or alive or…" She shakes her head. "I had no word."

Thane nods, his brows angling sharply down over his eyes. He motions for the two vacant chairs beside them. "Please."

She follows his offer and they both sit facing the wide window of the hospital, Thane bent with his elbows along his knees, fingers steepled together, and Shepard turned to him, one leg pulled up under her, her hands sweaty and uncertain as they lay flat on her thighs.

Thane speaks first. "I tried to get through but any Alliance comm. channels leading to you were strictly secured. I left messages on your extranet account, knowing even that too would be locked out. I could only hope that you would find me when the war broke out." He presses his steepled hands to his mouth, eyes intent on her. "I had not known you even escaped Earth until a few hours ago, when I heard word of the Normandy docking here at the Citadel, and that you were aboard." He sighs, hands moving to hang between his knees, still locked tightly together. "I cannot describe the relief that overwhelmed me at the news."

Shepard grips at her thighs, her tear-stained smile shaky along her cheeks. "I tried to reach you too. But I couldn't. I didn't even know…where to…" She looks around, eyes blinking furiously to hold the tears back.

"It does not matter now. We are together," he answers, his hand sliding over to hers and wrapping securely around it.

"But for how long?" she whispers harshly.

He stills for a moment, eyes locked on their joined hands. "Our time was always limited. Even from the beginning."

"I know," she snaps, regretting it immediately. She sighs, leaning back along the chair and rubbing her free hand along her forehead. "I know," she repeats, softer this time. "I just didn't think…didn't think there was a chance we'd be apart for the end."

Thane's questioning gaze flicks to hers and she glances to him at his silence. She blows a shaky breath from her lips. "All those months apart. Not knowing if you had…died." She swallows tightly and grips tighter to his hand. "I have to be there in the end. I _have_ to."

Thane's mouth forms a thin line, and he cocks his head, gaze shifting to the floor. "Perhaps it is best that you are not," he answers lowly.

"Don't," she warns, a hiss.

He begins to pull from her but she holds tight to his hand. His gaze shifts back up to hers. "Siha," he begins, voice a hesitant breath.

" _Don't_ ," she hisses once more, snapping up to scoot closer to the end of the chair, closer to him. "You said once that you were mine. You _promised_. When I told you I didn't care for how long that meant, that I wanted whatever you could give, I meant it." She shifts closer, licking her lips, hand clenching tightly to his. "Even the moments where it hurts. If it's with you, then I will take them all."

Thane's gaze shifts between hers for a moment, his mouth pursed tight. Slowly, so slowly she might have missed it if she hadn't been looking for it, he smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "You are too good for this world, siha," he breathes, eyes never leaving her. "Too brave." He says it like a regret.

She manages a half-hearted chuckle. "It's gotten me into a few scrapes, sure." She tries for a cocky grin but it ends up more a grimace and so she drops her gaze to their hands and tries not to cry. "Everything is different now, Thane."

He sighs, leaning back against the chair, his thumb sliding over her knuckles. "The Reapers."

"Yes."

"And Earth?"

She snorts, a harsh sound of dejection that catches in her throat. "Burning."

"I am sorry, siha. Beyond words."

Shepard nods, lip caught between her teeth, leaning back as well. Their linked hands stay locked between them. "It's not going to be an easy fight. And I need everyone I can get." She glances toward him thoughtfully. But she doesn't voice more.

A hum of agreement rumbles in his chest. "I only wish I were able to join you."

"Is it…" Shepard stops, voice catching. "How far along?"

He is contemplative for a moment, eyes raking over the bright expanse of the Presidium through the brilliant glass before them. "I should be dead already."

The reflexive tightening of her grip on his hand shifts his gaze back to hers. He offers a smile that should be comforting but is only pained. "I am not afraid, siha."

Her lip quivers, but she clamps down on it. She wants to be the stoic, strong warrior goddess he has always thought her to be. She wants to be the assurance at his back and the hands bearing him up and the air he breathes. But she is already slipping. She is already taken out to sea.

Her nightmares always end with an ocean between them and the distant, haunting image of his form across a shore she will never reach.

She finds her voice somewhere in the depths and a sharp twist of her gut follows the words. "What if I told you I was?" she whispers.

He laughs. He actually _laughs_. It is short and brilliant and warms something inside her she thought she'd already lost. "I wouldn't believe it," he answers, so surely. As though the thought itself was impossible. "I don't believe you've ever known fear."

She opens her mouth to retort but his sudden movement stalls the words in her throat. He turns to her, leaning swiftly and purposely across the space between them until his lips are pressed to hers. His free hand comes up to cup her jaw, fingers pressing tightly to her cheek like a promise, like a _need_. He presses his tongue to her startled mouth and she parts her lips without thought. She moans along his tongue, her own hand coming up to grip at his collar and she shifts toward him, their knees knocking together, but she doesn't care. She tries to get closer, unlinking their hands so that she can slide her touch along the back of his neck. His responding groan makes her needy, makes her desperate, her fingers gripping the back of his neck and she whimpers when he slides his tongue deftly across hers. He pulls from her swiftly, breaking them apart forcefully and she tries to follow him back. Just for a taste. A lingering touch. Just the _breath_ of him in her mouth. It is a need so intense her whole body aches with it. Her desire blooms beneath her skin and everything inside her screams _now_.

Because it is all they have.

Thane is panting against her lips, his hands bracing along her neck, keeping her just out of reach but close enough to feel the heat of her. To hear the impatient growl that rumbles along her lips. He chuckles, her huff of annoyance breaking against his mouth and she pushes forward once more. He lets her, opens his mouth for one last, slow pull of their tongues against each other and then he pulls back once more. "There she is," he breathes darkly against her mouth.

Shepard closes her eyes and digs her fingers into his collar, holding him to her, wanting more but needing the most and knowing that neither is hers right now. "I just…this is just me wanting you, Thane. I've never hidden that. Or apologized for it. But that isn't bravery. It's…" She stops, her breath shuddering through her as one hand slips up to his cheek and she feels his warmth against her palm. "It's just selfishness."

Shaking his head softly, his lips still a whisper away, Thane chuckles. "You have always known how to fight when everything around you tells you it is futile. You reach for the impossible every day. With your hands. With your mind. With your heart. And you hold it with you even now. Your beauty is in your reaching."

"And if I can't hold on to it any longer?" Her voice quakes between them. "If I have to let go?"

"Then hold tighter," he breathes against her, pressing his mouth to hers for only an instant, only the brief warmth to reassure her. "And I will not let go either."

She sighs against him, eyes fluttering closed. "That's a pretty high pedestal to fall from." She manages a short, punctured laugh, bracing her forehead against his.

"Then fly," he answers back.

She laughs again. They stay silent and braced to each other for many moments, simply breathing together, simply memorizing the feel and the heat and the weight of each other's hearts in their hands.

When they finally break apart, it is together, synchronously. They each lean back from each other, and their steady smiles feel whole this time. Feel right. Thane's eyes harden slightly as he watches her, and she takes a bracing breath at the look.

"I am ready, siha," he says, shoulders stretching back. "You must be as well."

She nods, the words still catching in her throat before they can come to air. But she knows what he asks. And she knows what it means. And she knows what she will have to be.

Ready. For the end.

For his.

Maybe even for hers.

But never _theirs_.

She clears her throat, eyes suddenly dry. "I will be," she assures softly.

It is enough.

Because it will have to be.

* * *

Garrus finds Shepard in the Observation Lounge, in her usual spot along the top of the couch, boots on the seat, back against the glass.

He swears he sees her like this in dreams some nights.

"Kaidan alright?" he asks, the door sliding closed behind him. Shepard looks up and manages a wider smile than he's seen since reuniting on Menae.

"He's awake and on the mend."

Garrus nods, moving to stand just before her. "Good. I'd hate to lose another good one."

Shepard's smile wilts, but it isn't from sorrow. It is more resignation. "Same."

After a moment of nothing between them, Garrus cocks his head and sighs, scratching at his cheek. "Everything good between you two?"

She nods thoughtfully, fingers tapping along her knees. "I think so."

"But?"

She glances up at him, shaking her head. "No 'but's, just…I don't know."

He steps closer, leaning forward to rest a hand on her knee. "What?"

She offers a hesitant smile and pats his hand. "Just got me thinking of everyone else out there. Tali, Mordin, Samara." She stops, because there are too many names to list off. And too many she will never be able to say again.

Garrus pulls his hand away and makes a low hum of agreement that flares his mandibles. "I was thinking the same recently."

Shepard shifts forward, hands raised in the air as she gestures with her words. "I mean, I don't even know if half of them are alive or not. And that's the killer. The not knowing. Because it's not the same. It's not the same as Ashley's dying voice over the line or Jack's bloody face or _God_ , even Legion. Just…dead on the floor. Gone. Never…never coming back." Her voice cracks at the end and she rubs a hand harshly across her nose, sniffing loudly and pulling her shoulders taut.

"As hard as all that shit is," she continues, "as fucked up as it gets, it's _still_ better than not knowing. It's still better than that sharp pull in your gut that tells you one morning that you'll see them again, bright-eyed and alive and fucking _there_ but then…but then no. The next moment it's defeat. It's the knowledge that nothing survives that." She stretches her hand out and points past the glass toward a destruction laying in wait for them even now. Toward cold metal and deafening mechanized voices and the last red gleam of light before the end. "It's the stupid, fucking pain that sinks deep in your bones and tells you _no_. They're not coming back. None of them. Maybe not even you." Shepard scoffs and twists away so that their gazes break and she digs her knuckles into an eye socket. "Fuck, it's just…" She sighs, her whole body slumping with it. "It's just so fucking exhausting."

Garrus shifts his footing, a short click resonating from his throat that catches Shepard's attention. She looks up to find his brow plates angled sharply down toward his eyes. "Have you heard anything about Thane?" he asks hesitantly.

Shepard sighs, leaning back against the glass. "I saw him at the hospital."

Garrus lifts his brows. "Really? I mean, spirits, I wasn't sure if…" He teeters off.

"I know," Shepard finishes for him. "I thought the same."

"But he's okay?"

Shepard pulls her lip between her teeth and pats the space next to her. Garrus moves to it instantly, ambling up the couch and settling beside her. "I don't think anything about the situation is 'okay' exactly but…he's alive. And we're in touch again. And…and that's the best I can ask for."

Garrus pulls one foot up to rest on the opposite knee. "Well, I'd say you've been due for some good news, Shepard."

She flashes him a genuine smile, though quick and inadequate. "Thanks. He's been at the hospital a lot the last few months he says, readying for the end." Her eyes shift to the bar and stay there.

Garrus rushes to capture her attention once more. "Kolyat?"

Flicking her gaze back to him at the name, Shepard huffs slightly, propping her elbow on one thigh and resting her hand in her palm. "They're working through their issues. At least, Thane is trying to. I don't know how well Kolyat is responding to it but…Thane is hopeful." Her smile returns, this time wider, and it stays with her longer. "He's trying to make peace before his time is up."

"And you?" Garrus asks it softly, almost as though he expects danger with the answer. "Have you two been making peace?"

Shepard's hand slips from under her chin and she leans back against the glass. She picks at the edge of her sleeveless cotton top. "As much as we can."

"Shepard…"

"It's okay," she lies. "Really. I knew this going in. We both did."

"Doesn't make it any easier."

"No. No it doesn't." She sighs, hands sliding along her thighs and stopping, resting over her knees. "But then again, this is war. And anything is possible. Hey, he might outlive me." She tries to end it on a laugh but it comes out more like a choke. So she clamps her mouth shut and stares off at the wall.

Garrus shakes his head. "You've always had a horrible sense of humor, Shepard." It is tinged with something she cannot name.

"I think I was being serious," she whispers, unsure. Her voice is blaringly hollow in the empty room.

Garrus waits a moment, throat tight, and then, "I know."

Shepard looks at him, clearing her throat and shifting in her seat. "He says he'll look after Kaidan."

Garrus manages to bark a laugh.

The sound alone pulls a half-smile across Shepard's lips.

"Gallant to the end, is he?" His laugh lingers longer than he thinks maybe it should but it's just too _silent_ in this room.

"Always was," she whispers.

They stare off at the grey wall of the Normandy for several seconds, each thinking and loving and grasping something different. Each almost wishing the cold glass behind them could slide away and space could take them.

It'd probably hurt less than this.

"You'll win this in the end, Shepard."

His voice fills the room and breaks through every shadow in every corner. Shepard feels it as though it had pulled from her own chest. As though the rumble of his words and the sound of his voice had always belonged there.

With her.

And they feel right.

More than anything else has felt right in a long, long time.

"You always do," he finishes, turning to her so that she can see in his face how much he believes it.

There are so many things she wants to say. So many things she needs to say. So many things she knows she _should_ say.

But instead, she settles for her outstretched palm between them, and when he threads his talons between her own trembling fingers, she knows he's heard her.

The clench of his own hand is his faint whisper back.

* * *

Grissom is smoke-filled and battered when they touch down. Shepard checks each room, each corridor, for any surviving students. EDI monitors Cerberus comm. chatter and Liara gives medical attention to the few straggling students they encounter. They send them on their way to Kahlee Sanders and continue. There are many students they are too late for.

Shepard comes across the body of a student in the mess hall, her blonde hair stained red at the scalp, trailing over her face. She lays sprawled beside a table, face down in a pool of blood. Shepard doesn't even bother checking for a pulse.

Liara sucks in a breath beside her. "Goddess, they're only children." Her hand comes up to cover her mouth, her fingers trembling.

"Yes," Shepard agrees, the word a tight hiss of air.

"How could they do such a thing?" Liara questions.

EDI glances toward the exit at the opposite end of the mess hall. "Cerberus has proven time and again that they believe in the old adage 'The ends justify the means'. It is not surprising they would use such methods."

Liara snaps her gaze to the synthetic. "It's still abominable."

Shepard closes her eyes and breathes deep, before rolling her shoulders and opening her eyes once more, motioning for them to continue on. "Which is why we're going to stop them," she answers tightly. "This is why we're here, why we're in this war." She moves to the wall along the exit and braces against it, peeking out into the corridor. Her voice carries over the comm., her words steadier than she feels. "These are the people we're fighting for. These are the ones worth saving." She steps out into the corridor, sighting along her rifle. "I intend to leave them a galaxy worth living in."

EDI is silent at her side, and Liara's soft hum of agreement tells her all she needs to know.

The next dead body they come across is Cerberus. Shepard is too wary to call the flickering spark of emotion in her chest hope.

It strengthens with each step.

* * *

The students in Orion hall are exhausted as they slump against each other and the tables in the upper level, thankful for the reprieve that Shepard and her team have provided them. Without a teacher to guide them, they've been struggling in their trek through the school, searching for an escape from the Cerberus soldiers. Ensign Jason Prangley leads them the best he can. Shepard manages an awkward pat on his shoulder when their conversation is over and she sends him to check on the students, leaving her to figure out their exit strategy.

Prangley nods, the fatigue slumping his shoulders. He rubs a hand over his face and sighs. "Thanks again, Commander. I don't know what we would have done without you." He gives her one last weary smile and then he is making his way up the stairs to see to the other students.

Shepard has a hand to the radio at her ear and is about to order Cortez back to the Normandy when Ensign Rodriguez steps up to her, lip caught between her teeth. Shepard stops at the look of apprehension on the young woman's face.

"Commander, I…I need to ask…" Rodriguez looks to her hands, nervously wringing them before her. She shakes them out and looks back up, eyes pleading. "Do you ever forget the first time you kill someone? Because today was mine and I…I –" She doesn't get anything else out, her eyes falling to the floor in the wake of her question.

Shepard sighs, her gaze shifting to the upper level to watch the other students. How easy it would be to lie. To tell her that the blood washes off and that the nightmares become bearable and that she will never see her victim's face in the mirror. How easy it would be to tell her that after today, it gets easier. It gets better. That she'll never feel guilt and that somewhere deep inside, she'll always remain clean. Untainted.

Innocent.

But Shepard knows that innocence has no place in this war, and she hates that it will be a lesson learned so young for these students. For so many out there. She hates that she must be the one to teach it.

When she looks back to Rodriguez, the young woman is watching her with hopeful eyes. Her mouth hangs open in expectation.

Shepard furrows her brows and shakes her head, her throat tight with words she knows all too intimately herself. "You never forget your first, Rodriguez. And if you're lucky, you never forget the rest either."

Rodriguez sucks in a breath, her brows angling sharply down in confusion. Her hands clench into fists at her sides. "Ma'am?"

Shepard licks her lips, taking a step closer, her eyes intent on the other woman. A child really.

So young and so new and so…blameless.

This war should never have been theirs. But it is. And it will continue to be. And Shepard knows it would be unkind to pretend it won't.

In the end, it would only kill them.

"The moment you forget – the moment it stops haunting you – that's when you lose yourself. That's when you don't come back whole." Shepard takes a deep, long breath, her chest aching. "Sometimes you don't come back from that at all."

Rodriguez's mouth slips open in horror, her eyes already wet with tears. She takes a terrified step back. Shepard reaches out and catches her by the forearms.

"Listen to me," she breathes harshly, close enough that Rodriguez can feel her hot breath on her face. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this. And I wish it were different. I wish I could tell you it fades. But what you did today, the life you took, never forget why. Never forget that it was you or him and that you made the right choice. You made the _right choice_. You chose you. You chose life. And there is never fault in such a choice." Shepard's hands grip tighter to Rodriguez's arms and the ensign whimpers softly at the touch, her lip trembling. "Before this war is over, you might have to make that choice again. Don't hesitate. You do and you die."

"But I…I don't want…" A shuddering breath breaks from the ensign.

Shepard's eyes narrow, her brow set. "Because _they_ won't hesitate. And they won't remember you. That's what makes us different. That's what makes you _human_. Don't let that go, however painful it may feel. Don't let that go. Or you're lost to them already. Do you understand?"

Rodriguez nods adamantly, her tears finally breaking free, and Shepard knows her swift answer is only from fear. She knows it is too much for her in this moment. But Shepard cannot bring herself to lie. She cannot bring herself to make a promise she knows she cannot keep. To promise peace when there can be no such peace is not a kindness. The truth is never a kind thing.

Even so, she knows there are some things in this world she can still do, still reach for.

There are some things still in her power to promise.

Shepard braces her hands on either side of the crying ensign's cheeks. "And do you understand that I will do _everything_ in my power to make sure you never have to make that choice again?" Her eyes are intent on Rodriguez's own wildly blinking ones. She does not let her go.

Rodriguez cannot nod, her head caught in Shepard's hands. Her face crumbles with the pain, her tears falling unashamedly now, her breaths coming from her in short, aching pants. "I understand," she croaks, her voice breaking. "I understand."

Shepard swallows tightly and releases her. "Good."

Rodriguez reaches for her before she can react, and the young ensign wraps her arms around the commander with all her strength. She sobs into the older woman's chest. Shepard blinks in surprise, her hands stilling in the air. She glances toward the opposite end of the room where Liara and EDI are conversing, only to find the asari staring in surprise at the scene. Shepard shakes her head minutely, her mouth hanging open.

Rodriguez clutches tighter, her sobs quieting.

Shepard slowly lowers her hands, resting them awkwardly on Rodriguez's shoulders, her face softening. "I know, and I'm sorry. But I need you to calm down. This isn't over yet."

Rodriguez nods, sniffing loudly and then pulling back, wiping a hand across her face. "I'm sorry, Commander. I won't do it again."

Shepard shakes her head, a soft chuckle falling from her lips. "I suppose I'd rather the emotional outburst than a catatonic state."

Rodriguez wipes at her eyes again, pulling her shoulders back. She cocks her head in question.

"It means you're still feeling this. And _that_ means healing is possible," Shepard offers in explanation.

Rodriguez sniffs again, eyes downcast. "It just hurts, ma'am."

Shepard lays a hand on her head. "I know, Rodriguez. I know."

She's known for years now.

Liara steps up beside them, cautious. "Everything okay over here?"

Rodriguez clears her throat and takes a step back, folding her hands behind her back. "Yes, ma'am. Sorry about that. Just a moment of weakness."

"A moment of humanity," Shepard corrects, smile soft and quick.

Rodriguez nods, her mouth opening as though to form words but then she stops. She tries to smile. It is hesitant and barely there. But it's a start. She nods her farewell and heads up the stairs to join her classmates.

Liara raises an inquisitive brow Shepard's way.

Shrugging, Shepard answers her with a weary sigh. "Just another reason we have to win this war."

Liara nods her understanding, her hand coming up to rest along Shepard's arm. She squeezes it affectionately.

Shepard wonders if anyone wins such a war.

* * *

Prangley is shot in the back as they scramble for the shuttle and Shepard barely gets Rodriguez in before the Cerberus troops are clambering toward the docking ramp. She looks back and finds Prangley unmoving on the ground, his blood spilling across the tiles quickly. Shepard turns around and doesn't look back.

"Jason!" Rodriguez yells, reaching out from the shuttle, but Shepard shoves her back in, hooking a hand around a ceiling bracer and then banging on the side panel twice for the pilot's attention. "All in! Let's move it!"

The door panel slides closed, bullets ricocheting off the metal as the engines fire up and the shuttle lurches forward. Shepard steadies herself as they speed away from the station. The vehicle is filled with a sudden, blaring silence in the wake of the firefight. Many of the students sit with their faces in their hands, others staring off at the wall across from them.

Shepard doesn't hear a sob.

"Commander," Kahlee ventures from her position across the shuttle. "I want to thank you for your help. We couldn't have made it otherwise." Her words end on a hollow sigh.

Shepard only nods, words failing her.

"We just left him," Rodriguez whispers, her face in her hands.

"Jason was –" Kahlee begins but Shepard interrupts, her voice tight and controlled.

"Prangley made a choice." She promised herself she would not lie to these young men and women, these future soldiers. Even if they must hate her for it. She readies herself for the coming grief and panic. She knows the truth will be needed, now more than ever.

Rodriguez whips her head up at the words, anger coloring her features. "And that makes it okay? We left him to _die_." She curls her fists in her lap.

"He was already dead. You weren't. And that's when _I_ made a choice." Shepard is unapologetic, her eyes unflinching on Rodriguez.

"Commander," Kahlee begins, voice chastising.

Shepard holds up a hand, and then looks around the cabin at the other students, all with faces turned to her. "Many of you nearly killed today. Some of you actually did. And others of you are still back on that station, dead and never coming back."

Kahlee takes a step forward. "Commander, that's enough."

Shepard clenches her jaw and lifts her chin, her eyes hard on Kahlee. "But it isn't, you see. It isn't enough just to tell them the truth. It isn't enough to know. They have to _feel_ it. Or the only thing awaiting them will be an early grave." She looks around the cabin once more, making eye contact with every trembling student. "You thought you were ready for battle? Well, this is it. This is battle. This is war. You might not have wanted this war but it's here all the same. And it's not going to go away just because you _want_ it to. Just because you're scared. It's kill or be killed out there. It's fight or die. And it's people like Prangley who will win this war. So this is where you make a choice." Shepard pulls a heavy breath in, her fingers curling tightly around the handle steadying her. Her gaze falls on Rodriguez. "Will you fight?"

She lets the question settle around the shuffling students. Part of her wants to take it back. Take it all back. Because the question shouldn't even have to be asked. They should all be sleeping peacefully in their bunks back at Grissom station, or eagerly joining in on a class discussion, or playing pranks on the teacher and laughing in the corridors. They shouldn't be here. They shouldn't be made to make such a choice.

But war has no prejudice. It kills the young and the old alike, the feeble and the able, the combatant and the civilian. No one is exempt. No one escapes its touch.

She wants to save them all.

She knows she will fail.

And the only way she can live with that painful knowledge is by arming these young and frightened students with the truth. The truth that there is power in this choice.

To fight, or die.

They only have to reach for it. To grasp that power.

Rodriguez keeps her gaze steady on Shepard. Her nails cut half moons into her flesh with the force of her clenching fists. She licks her lips in anticipation of her answer.

Shepard made her choice long ago.

Something inside her doesn't know how to die.

* * *

They are heading to Eden Prime. Back to the beginning. Back to the start of it all.

Shepard thinks about the long years and months and days since she had first seen the vision of a warning come too late. She thinks about all the things she's seen and all the people she's met and all the choices she's made.

She thinks about how she had been bitter and resentful for so long. How surviving ignited her wrath.

Now it ignites her power.

She only has to reach for it.

Shepard finally understands the weight and measure of every painful instant in her life. Every stark moment and vivid breath of existence. How it all matters. She understands – after all the blood and all the sweat and all the lives she's held and taken – she understands what she was meant for.

The fight.

_This_ fight.

The gleaming image of Eden Prime through the shuttle's viewscreen brings a decisive smile to her lips.

She doesn't intend to lose.


End file.
